


Thrown together

by ChocoNut



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Meetings, Jaime being himself, Jaime is a nosy co-passenger, Loads of smut, Masturbation, Pining, Rom-com, Sex Toys, Traveling Companions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne has to deal with a handsome, but infuriating stranger on a long flight to Braavos. And soon they begin a journey that doesn't just end with this trip.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 124
Kudos: 290





	1. Chapter 1

With a resigned sigh, Brienne settled down on the aisle seat marked 32-A once her backpack was safely tucked in the overhead compartment. Air travel was never her cup of tea, good old fashioned trains suiting her better than being caged for hours in a craft. 

She glanced at her watch. 8:00. p.m. _Gods, twelve hours to go,_ she groaned to herself. _I hate long flights._

“Oh, they aren’t that bad,” said a deep voice beside her. Half-curious and half-annoyed to find out who was intruding into her solitude, she glanced up to find a man in his late thirties, or perhaps, early forties, standing in the aisle. The smirk he sported put her off at first glance, giving off strong vibes of arrogance. “If you have good company, of course.”

“I was talking to myself,” she muttered, trying to ignore how roguishly handsome he was despite the irritating smile that was pasted on his face. Longish hair that fell on his forehead, smart emerald green eyes that could, Brienne guessed, go from intimately warm, to icily distant depending on the mood he was in, and the stubble on his chiselled jawline - he had the looks of a movie-star. 

“Talking to oneself isn’t a sign of sanity,” he remarked, the smirk turning into a naughty grin, which, if she weren’t the target of his cheeky taunt, would’ve made her go weak in the knees.

She merely grunted in response, knowing full well that anything she said would go against her. Guys like him, if she’d rightly gauged his personality, enjoyed sticking a pin into people and provoking them into irritation.

Hoping her indifference might discourage him enough to leave her alone, she flipped open the book in her hand, pretending he didn’t exist. 

But she was mistaken. He simply refused to budge.

“Yes?” she curtly demanded, frowning at him.

“32-B,” he said, continuing to stay put.

She went pale when his words hit her, enraged at the audacity the man must be filled with if he dared try to guess her bra size and announce it to her face. Gritting her teeth, she jumped to her feet, her hands shaking so much that her book and her handbag, both ended up on the floor. “What the hell are you trying to get at, mister?” she barked, ready to create a scene if required.

He looked at her as if she’d descended from Mars. “My seat,” he replied, pointing to the indicator above, “32-B.”

“Your seat?” She blinked several times, cursing her stupidity.

“Why else do you think I’m standing here?” The smile long gone, he regarded her as if he were trying to appraise her looks.

“Of course,” she mumbled, “your seat,” before getting out and making way for him to get in. Hoping the burning sensation in her face would go away, she was careful not to look at him and kept her eyes on the aisle.

Thankfully, they began to take off, saving her from further conversation, and within minutes, settled into a steady course. Brienne buried herself in her novel, but it was no good. Her senses tingling with his presence beside her, mind, her handsome, infuriating neighbour was all she could think of. 

“Um--” he began, and she looked up to find him regarding her with an amused smile.

“What?”

“You’re reading the book upside down.” His eyes were twinkling. “An unusual skill, I must say. If you could teach me how to--”

He shut up when she snapped the book right and popped in a pair of earphones to keep out the nuisance. For a while, he remained silent, but Brienne was absentmindedly flipping the pages, unable to absorb one word of what she was trying to read. Men like him, she had encountered before, and kept them at bay, not allowing them to get under her skin, but this one--

“Excuse me, ma'am?”

She pulled out her earbud, her pulse beginning to rise as she glared at him, waiting for the next wave of his onslaught.

“Your phone--” he peered down to her lap “--the music’s not on. Do you mind me asking why--” he pointed to her ear pods.

“Noise cancellation,” she hissed, hoping he’d catch the hint and spare her.

“Hmm,” he mused, still wearing his irritating slight half-smile. “A good way to keep out the aircraft noise.”

_And nosy co-passengers._

To herself, Brienne made a frustrated noise, but knowing better than to reply, for it would only egg him on and fuel it further, she returned to her book. But her peace was short-lived, for within a few minutes, the aisle was bustling with activity with dinner being served. As soon as she was handed her tray, she shoved the book into her handbag and began shoveling the food into her mouth, eager to get it over with and retire to a shut-eye before he decided he was in the mood to get friendly again.

“I’m Jaime Lannister,” he introduced himself, “son of leading industrialist, Tywin Lannister.” When she just responded with a nod that clearly told him she wasn’t interested in an acquaintance, he went on, “And you are--”

“--too tired to keep this going,” she made it clear, irked that he paid no heed despite several attempts to keep to herself. That he turned out to be papa’s spoilt rich brat did no good for her first impression of him. Put off by types like him who had nothing but sarcasm and criticism for an ordinary woman like her, she made it a point to keep miles away from them.

“A man doomed to spend the night in an aircraft has the right to know the identity of his co-passenger,” he continued, unperturbed by her reticence. “I don’t see why you’re this surly, though--” leaning into her seat-space, he gave her one of those flirtatious smiles typical to those of his kind “--company such as mine is something you’d enjoy--”

“Not interested.”

Done with her meal, she hurriedly handed over the trash to the attendant passing by, and putting on her eye-mask indicating she was done with the day and _him_ , she curled up into a ball and turned to the other side, away from this menace she’d have to put up for a good many hours. Fortunately, it was an overnight journey, and sleep was an escape route she could resort to.

But sleep, as she discovered soon after the lights were dimmed, happened to ditch you when you needed it the most, and she was left wriggling and squirming in her seat, visions of his handsome face swarming her mind, her thoughts wandering to what he might look like shirtless. Unable to stop herself, she began picturing his hands all over her, his perfect mouth sucking her nipples, his fingers reaching between her legs to massage her--

“Dreaming about someone?”

Pissed-off, she uncovered her eyes and turned to confront him. “What--”

“Someone you fancy, I suppose--” he nudged closer, and she could feel a surge of heat within her “--I can see it in your eyes, wench--”

“Wench?” She was instantly put off by the word, the way it rolled past his tongue. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well--” he shrugged “--since you won’t tell me your name--”

“Mr. Lannister--” she struggled to be polite, curbing her urge to burst out into an angry lashing “--I have no interest in indulging in such engagements with strangers I meet on airplanes. All I want is a peaceful few hours of rest. If you would be kind enough to allow me that, I’d be grateful for it.”

And without waiting for his reaction, she went back to her cushion and blanket and closed her eyes to focus on Renly, hoping that would distract her from this annoying Lannister.

+++++

“Seat-belts on, please,” the air-hostess called, inspecting each passenger as she glided down the aisle. “And your seat backs upright. In the next few minutes we will be landing at the Braavos International Airport.”

The night had been painful, to say the very least about it, and Brienne was relieved that this tortuous journey was coming to an end. What lay ahead wasn’t that pleasant a prospect to dwell on, since after a few hours of transit, she’d have to board a flight to Pentos. And in that, she prayed, she wouldn’t have to cope with the likes of this pesky Lannister.

As they began the touchdown, she couldn’t help stealing a glance at him. After her outburst, he had not spoken a word, not even looked in her direction. This morning, too, he mostly kept to himself, his nose buried in his tablet, behaving as if she was invisible.

_Good._

Although a part of her now wished he would--

The jerk of the wheels on the runway took him off her mind, and as soon as they had come to a halt and the doors opened, she joined the queue to the way out.

A part of the sea of passengers flocking to Immigration, she couldn’t help but look around once or twice just to check if he--

But when she joined the queuing immigrants, she happened to notice he was in the adjacent line, now busily staring at something on his phone.

_Don’t look at him. Pretend he’s not--_

“May I see your passport please?”

She mumbled a hurried _good morning_ to the officer behind the counter and by habit dipped her hand into the compartment of her bag that usually housed her documents.

“What the hell?” she muttered, when it wasn’t there, and went on to ransack the rest of her bag.

“Is there a problem?”

“Nope.” Panic started to grip her chest, but she had to stay calm, to work it out peacefully. It had been there when she had boarded and she was sure she hadn’t left it behind on the craft. “I’m sure I kept it in here,” she said, forcing a sheepish smile.

But as she kept searching, her blood pressure kept mounting. Every flap and every pouch of her bag, every nook and corner of her cabin luggage--

“Have you lost it?” asked the officer, clearly growing impatient.

“I--” she stammered, her brain numb and helpless “I’m looking--”

“Try checking in that novel you were reading last night,” whispered a familiar voice in her ear. 

She shot him an exasperated look. “Mr. Lannister, this is not the time--”

“Just take a look once.”

And before she could reply, he was gone. She did pull out the book and flip it open, though, and there it was, sitting comfortably as a bookmark to the chapter she’d been reading last night. “Here--” she handed it to the man who went about the rest of the process, within seconds, returning it to her, stamped, her arrival acknowledged.

Once off the queue, Brienne scanned the area, eyes on the lookout for one guy among the crowd. 

When she found him, she hurried across. When he looked up, she hesitated, unsure how to break the ice.

“Thank you, Mr. Lannister,” she said, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. “If it wasn’t for your intervention--”

“Jaime.” Tossing her a winning smile, he held out his hand. “My name’s Jaime. And it wasn’t any trouble at all, wench--”

“It’s Brienne, not _wench_.” She took his hand, some of the irritation from last night returning at that word. “Brienne Tarth.” She continued shaking his hand, the flirtatious glint in his eyes bothering her more than before. “And now I’ve got to leave.”

“Sure.” The smile got naughtier, stirring something deep within her. 

“I just came to tell you that I appreciate your timely assistance,” she went on, glaring at him, and wanting to, yet, unable to tear her eyes off his attractive face. “To thank you.”

“You already told me that.” He glanced down at her hand still linked in his. “I thought you were leaving, wench--”

Blood gushing up her neck, she jerked away from the handshake. “I am. Goodbye, Jaime--Mr. Lannister--”

“Coffee?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You can thank me by joining me for a cup of coffee, Brienne,” he suggested, last night’s charming twinkle returning to his eyes. “I’m on the noon flight to Pentos, so I have a couple of hours to kill--”

“I’m taking the same flight.”

His eyes lit up. “That’ll be plenty of time for us to get acquainted--” he paused, then hesitantly added “--if you aren’t averse to a coffee, that is.”

Before she could give it a thought, she found herself falling for his invitation. “Coffee would be nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this has become a full-blown romance now. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They end up spending the day together. And it doesn't quite go as expected.

Jaime regarded her with interest from above the rim of his cup, the astonishing blue eyes arresting him, securing his attention. 

This wasn’t a woman who would peg his interest enough for him to fancy her, but she wasn’t one he could ignore, either. Not a beauty by any standards, she wasn’t someone a man could just walk by without a second look, either. She was by no means attractive, but those soft pink lips bore a kissable appeal, as did the rest of her—the slender neck, the shapely breasts—definitely more endowed than a 32-B, her never ending legs that could give professional models a run for their money—

“That’s it about me,” she finished, sitting back, and Jaime sat there, transfixed by her eyes. There was something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on, drawing him to spend time in her company, to know more about her.

“Tarth—” he pondered aloud, the name suddenly ringing a bell “—aren’t you from—”

“The Sapphire Isles,” Brienne replied, taking a sip of her steaming drink. “Settled there for generations, though I came to King’s Landing to further my career.”

“What brings you to Pentos, Brienne?”

“Work.”

While she did feed details about herself in bits and pieces, he could sense the stiffness, her discomfort in opening up to him. And that, to him, was a surprise. Where women were concerned, he never usually faced a challenge to get them to warm up to him. A smile and some sweet talk was all it usually took for them to thaw. But this woman was a tough nut to crack.

“Tell me about your family, wench.”

She set her cup on the table, a distant sadness slipping into those lovely eyes. “I had a brother and two sisters—” she exhaled deeply “—but it’s just dad and me now.”

Jaime knew better than to drag her into an uncomfortable past. “Boyfriends?” he prompted, observing every inch of her freckled face.

She didn’t answer, choosing to concentrate on her coffee, instead.

“Husband, then? Are you married—”

_—the flight to Pentos scheduled for 12:00 noon has been cancelled today—_

“Nooo.” She got up with a groan, making a pained face as the rest of the announcement went on _regretting the inconvenience to passengers_. “I had to get there today.”

“Let’s go and find out at the counter.”

Upon inquiry with the airline, they were told that their booking would be shifted to the same flight tomorrow.

“There’s nothing more we can do,” the attendant said apologetically. “You could use the airport lounge for the rest of the day and overnight. The rooms are pretty comfortable.”

“We’d rather go out sightseeing,” Jaime suggested, when they walked back to their seats. “We can check into a hotel, then have lunch somewhere, spend the day together, have a bit of fun—”

“I’m not—”

“—and return to the airport together tomorrow.”

“I’m staying here, Jaime.” She settled down on a chair. “If you want to spend the day outside—”

“Oh, come on,” he coaxed, “it won’t be fun all alone. You need company.”

She looked at him as if weighing her options, then reluctantly left her seat. “Fine.”

+++++

Other than the flight mis-schedule fiasco, it was turning out to be a day well spent. They’d headed straight into the city, securing a couple of rooms in ‘Inn of the Green Eel’, one of their popular hotels. After lunch, they spent the afternoon roaming the markets and taking a tour of the House of Black and White, a medieval temple converted into a museum worth every second of their time. They devoted the evening to a visit to the beach, lazing away on the sand, idly watching the sun go down on the horizon.

“Oysters, clams and cockles,” cried a young dark-haired girl of about fourteen or fifteen, pushing a cart towards them.

“You ought to try the street food, wench,” Jaime recommended, beckoning the girl to come over. “It’s quite well-known.”

“Oysters, ma’am? Mine are the best around here.”

Brienne, after a moment’s hesitation, agreed, and by the time they had satisfied their craving, darkness had set in.

“What do you want to do next?” Jaime sniffed the air, taking in the smell of the earth. “Looks like it’s about to rain, and we have to get back before we’re caught in a downpour.”

Brienne shrugged. “Nothing in particular.”

Jaime glanced at his watch. “There’s a pub just two blocks from our hotel. What do you say to a drink or two before dinner?”

A drink or two became more than that, and before they could know it, they’d spent about an hour at the bar. Outside, a storm was beginning to brew, the intensity of the rain increasing as the night set in, thunder and lightning proving that Braavosi weather was unreliable. Getting back to the hotel was going to be a pain, but Jaime decided not to worry about it right now. Brienne had begun to loosen up, the alcohol leaving her rather giggly and keen on mingling with him, and he wanted to live every second of it. This was worth it and he didn’t want to ruin the fun.

“Let’s play a game,” Jaime proposed, calling for another round of drinks. He wanted to keep this going for as long as she would agree. “It goes like this—you guess something about me. If you’re right, I drink, but if you aren’t—”

“—I’m supposed to drink. I can pretty much guess the rules.” She leaned towards him, her eyes reading his. “Let me go first—you have a brother.”

“That’s not fair,” Jaime protested. “You can’t guess things that can be easily dug up on social media—”

“Drink,” she insisted, another girlish giggle slipping past her lips. 

And Jaime obliged, taken in by the change in her demeanour, the shine in her eyes.

“My turn.” He searched his head, fishing for the first thing that came to him. “You couldn’t stand me when we first met—”

“Now this isn’t fair either,” she whined. “I made my displeasure pretty clear last night—”

“Drink.”

And she did, without resisting. They went on, unwinding, laughing their hearts out, enjoying their time together, their surmises going from the politely neutral to fairly personal to matters one wouldn’t bring up with strangers. 

“You’ve been in love several times, Jaime.”

Jaime had to smile. “Not even once. Drink.”

Brienne’s mouth fell open. “I don’t believe it. A guy like you has never fallen in love?”

He shook his head. “Never found anyone I could connect with.”

“And here I was, thinking I’d hit the jackpot.” Scowling at her miscalculation, she took a huge gulp. “What kind of a woman would a man like you want to connect with?”

“I don’t know.” He stared into his whisky, drifting into serious mental territory over her question. “I don’t even believe I can fall in love—” he looked up at her “—but I hope that day isn’t far off.”

She smiled, the warmth reaching her lovely eyes. “I’m sure you will. You just need to stumble into the right person. The day it happens, it’ll be magic, good enough to knock you off your feet.” 

Whether it was his mind playing tricks or his body craving for attention, Jaime didn’t know. All he knew was he was beginning to wish for that magical moment to be _now_ , those eyes stirring something within him, those full lips, begging to be kissed, the smooth skin, calling for his attention, challenging him to rip away those clothes and get his fingers all over. His eyes dropped to her breasts, to those nipples pushing into her shirt, and he found himself slipping away, losing focus, drifting into forbidden thoughts that set his cock alight. What would it be like to— 

“You haven’t, yet, had the best sex of your life, Brienne.” 

It had slipped out before he could hold back, and once he’d said it, Jaime thoroughly regretted it. This wasn’t done, wasn’t decent, definitely not the way to advance a conversation with a woman he’d met a day before. 

And Brienne seemed to agree with him—at least her body language did. Returning to her stiff and proper self, she got up—

“Brienne—”

“I’m leaving,” she said, her tone hollow, and pulling out her purse, she tossed some cash on the table and before he could react, she was out of the door.

“Wench, I’m sorry.”

He paid for the drinks and rushed after her, hoping to chase her down and apologize, to convince her that what just happened was the booze in his blood. Undeterred by the pouring rain he ran down the street after her.

“Brienne, wait—”

She wheeled around, eyes blazing. “Stay away from me, Jaime.” 

Her tone was final, the message, _don’t mess with me._ As she huffed away into the dark, Jaime could do nothing but stand there for a moment, cursing himself for his insolence. When he could move, he slowly made his way to their hotel, barely conscious of the rain hitting him like crazy. Soaked to the bone, he attracted onlookers’ attention when he entered the reception, but uncaring, he stepped into the lift and let it carry him to his floor.

He stopped by her door first, the temptation to barge in and have a word with her too strong to let go off, but on second thoughts, he decided to leave it be. He, himself, was in a scarcely coherent state, and if he were to make another mistake—

He could sleep it off, talk to her in the morning. Plugging in the card, he let himself into the room, shivering when the cool air of the AC struck his wet clothes. Peeling off his soaked shirt, then his jeans and his shorts, he slipped into the shower and turned on the water, the warm spray, just what he needed. He let it cleanse away the rainwater, the mild fragrance of the soap, a much needed distraction. Lathering down his front, he worked the foam over his abdomen, down to his crotch, along his thighs, forcing the visions of the wench off his mind.

_This is just a passing moment._

He wasn’t the type to be attracted to a woman like her— _no_ , she wasn’t his type at all. Prim and proper—

Was that a heavy pounding on the door or was it simply his mind playing tricks on him?

Another knock followed.

He rinsed away the soap suds and stepped out, and wrapping a towel around his waist, he opened the door.

“I came here to drink—to—” she stuttered “—to finish the game.” She ambled in without an invitation. “Those are the rules, right?” 

Jaime felt his sanity slipping away again, the calming effect of the bath wearing off, his hormones attacking him with renewed vigour when he allowed himself a good, hard look at her. The wench, like him, appeared to have just stepped out of a bath, the bathrobe that barely made it past her thighs, showing off her smooth legs. Her cleavage, with rogue droplets of water clinging to it, was screaming for his mouth, the merciless flicks of his tongue. 

“You’re drunk, wench,” he said, unable to tone down the huskiness in his voice.” She, unlike him, seemed to have guzzled down a drink or two after her hasty retreat to solitude, the slur in her voice, the way she looked at him bringing back the twitching between his legs. A woman like her wasn’t someone to just barge into a stranger’s room half-naked unless the spirits in her blood had taken over. She could be engaged—married, even, and he was dying to find out, although he'd consciously kept away from probing further after the first time she'd evaded the matter.

“Give me that drink. Let’s finish it, fair and square—”

“Listen, what happened down there—” He had an overwhelming urge to start apologizing, to explain himself, but her eyes told him she wasn’t here for it.

“You were right.” She staggered into the room, keeping her balance but not quite steady as she approached him. “Jaime, I—” she paused, licking her lips, her gaze thirstily absorbing his shirtless chest, the steadily growing bulge beneath his towel. She looked up again—straight into his eyes, something in those blue eyes, calling out to him, weakening the last remaining bits of resolve in him. 

“Brienne, I think you should—”

She sidled up to him, the barely-there space between them, crackling with electricity, the tension mounting—around them and between his legs and before he could stop himself, her mouth was on his, eager and gluttonous. 

And for Jaime, this was the last straw. He dragged her into an embrace, his lips pressing into hers—as rough as he could, nothing to hold him back anymore. She hungrily pushed back, her lips parting to take him in, her tongue pushing past his barrier to seek and fondle his. She moaned, dragging her palm up his chest, teasing, playing with his skin, and he gripped her head firmly, holding her in place as he worked his mouth against hers.

_Fuck, this isn’t happening… this can’t be happening..._

But he didn’t stop, pressing her close, sensing the tension in her body slide along his, her tense muscles and the warmth of her skin soaking into his. This was how it was probably meant to be, him and her, tonight, all night— 

She broke the kiss, her fiery eyes meeting his. “Make love to me,” she demanded, pushing him down on the bed and straddling him.

“Wench—”

His words died when she shifted on his lap, gently teasing his cock over the towel, pressing her face into his neck. The heat of her mouth on his neck or the sensation of his cock rubbing against her cunt—what was more distracting, he couldn’t decide. And it didn’t fucking matter. The only sensation he was cognizant to was her touch, her roving hands, traveling, pressing into his skin, then releasing their hold on his neck, fumbling with the hair on his chest. Warm calloused palms smoothed over his bare chest, she began kissing him, soft, hot lips attacking his Adam’s apple, the hollow on his neck, the burning wetness of her tongue flicking across merrily, making him gasp, the sweet pressure of her teeth as she sank them into his skin, evoking a strangled cry from somewhere deep down within him. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to stop her. He arched his hips and ground his cock against her, the barrier of his towel, the friction of the coarse fabric on sensitive skin taking his lust to a peak.

He wanted to taste her, her skin, her arousal—all of her. Wrapping his arms tight around her waist, he pulled her closer, seeking her mouth in a kiss. With a slight whimper—the sexiest sound he’d heard, she opened her mouth and took him in, sucking and stroking his tongue with her own.

Bodies—hers and his, screamed at him to fuck her now, to show her the night of her life—the best sex she’d ever had. As his hips rose up over and over to rub his erection against her crotch, he could smell her arousal soaking through his towel, the scent bringing out the animal in him. Hands on her hips, he pulled her down onto him and ground against her. He was getting close, on the brink of—and he didn’t want to come like this, not without—

Shoving her off his lap, he got up.

“Jaime—”

He began to kiss her again, intense and needy, fierce and urgent, his fingers fumbling around her robes. Undoing it, he pushed it off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground in a satisfying _swish._ She was all his—from the flushed face and well-kissed lips down to the firm breasts, the shapely waist and the wetness building up between her legs. His hands skidded down her neck, groping her breasts and tweaking her nipples. Between them, he felt her undo the knot on his towel, and freeing his cock, she pressed her chest against his, her nipples grazing his skin, her thighs provoking his erection.

Pushing her on the bed, he got in after her, his mouth setting out on an erotic journey all over her. He took one nipple, and then the other into his mouth, sucking and nibbling them, and her back arched as he devoured her, her fingers threading into his damp hair. 

His cock was throbbing, waiting, eager...

He kissed his way down her stomach, the scent of her arousal begging him to taste her, and giving into his body’s demands, he slid down between her legs. She was so wet—so fucking wet. 

For him. 

He pressed his lips to her folds, and her response was explosive, her hips thrusting upwards, an earthy mewl leaving her throat. With every flick of his tongue, each stroke of his fingers, she made the same sound. It was so raw, so obscenely sexual—the fact that it was so unlike a woman like Brienne, bringing him on the verge of his end, making it all the more erotic and insanely desirable.

Her breathing, laboured and heavy, she was jerking and bucking against him, pressing herself into him and bearing down. He could feel the spasms ripping her apart, sense her pleasure growing with each thrust of his fingers, every slurping flick of his tongue. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him closer, and he could feel her climax approaching, gripping and grasping her, bringing out the wild in a personification of sophistication like her. 

Her moan, when she came, was one of a woman satisfied, yet, craving more. Such want and desire he’d never seen in a woman before.

“I want your cock, Jaime,” she gasped, still panting from her explosive orgasm as he kissed his way up her body. “Fuck me now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter : Will they go all the way? Or will sanity prevail?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night unfolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly smut. So be warned :)

_I want your cock._

Never before had a woman been this possessively outspoken with him, demanding what she wanted—not even the dominating Cersei who always took what she craved. 

This was turning him on like hell.

And Jaime had never felt this frantic a need for a condom before. So much that it was as if the rest of the night was hanging on this one bit of petty luck—its fate depending on this one thing that might make or mar what could easily become the best night of his life.

_Please let there be at least one._

Reluctantly getting off her, he groped around for his backpack which was fortunately lying at arms length, and digging around the emergency compartment, he fished out a box he hadn’t bothered to discard after the last time he’d been with Cersei. He opened it, hoping fervently that it wasn’t empty, that he didn’t have to break this spell and go down to the store. 

But the fates had decided to be kind to him tonight. There were three left. Three precious ones which meant this night wouldn’t be ruined.

Fumbling through the pack, he unwrapped one and pulled it onto his aching cock before shoving himself into her, his eyes on hers all the time. 

_Fuck!_

She felt so fucking good, hugging him, almost crushing him. Fiercely hot, impossibly tight—she was squeezing him, smothering him. He pulled out, then drove in, the sensation of her softness around his stiff shaft, too much to take. It was monstrous, delicious, so fucking awesome that he’d find it difficult to get this out of his mind long after this night was over. 

“Jaime!”

Her nails anchored deep into his flesh—back, chest, wherever she could grope him, and he went on, relentlessly ploughing into her over and over. The bed slightly shook beneath their breakneck pace, and that making him hornier, he reached over to grasp the bedpost for support. He rammed into her, balls deep, immersing himself again and again whilst she dragged her fingers all over him until the blood rushed to their heads. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cursed, bruising his lips in a furious kiss when he squeezed those greedy tits that begged for his attention.

He wanted to see her pale skin deepen to a shade of crimson. He wanted her to writhe and squirm under him, her hips coming on to him every time his cock disappeared into her. He wanted beads of sweat to decorate every freckle. He wanted to leave marks of his stubble all over those tender breasts. 

“Harder!”

Pounding. Mad and deep. Hard and restless. He gave her what she wanted. Her teeth sank into his shoulders, arms, her lust becoming his pain and bliss and so many other sensations he couldn’t put words to. He tugged at her hair and pressed her down, rough and ruthless. He wanted to see those pupils darken with lust, to widen with bliss as he pounded her relentlessly.

Her muscles seized him, contracting and releasing and gripping him again, until she went rigid, her heels digging into the back of his thighs as she fell hard into her orgasm.

Knowing he wasn’t going to last, he plundered on, his pulse thundering in his ears, the sound of it mingling with the sensation of hers against his chest, pushing him on, goading him to fuck her harder, faster, until he came with a ferocity he’d never exuded before.

+++++

Jaime awoke to a stirring sensation in his groin, the cause of it, the incredible woman who had fallen asleep in his bed last night, her palm resting above his heart, her knee brushing his erection. 

He lay still, eyes adjusting to the bright morning, mind wandering the frenzied night they’d shared, his body basking in the warmth of her curled up cozily in his arms. The steady rise and fall of her chest, the soft sound of her breathing—it was almost enough to soothe him back to sleep had it not been for her rogue knee which was beginning to steadily raise his pulse and so much more. 

Propping himself up slightly, he looked down at her, staring openly at her exposed body, taking in the ridges of her collarbone, the smooth soft swell of her breasts, heaving to the rhythm of his breathing, her pert nipples, so perfectly placed as if screaming out to be kissed, to be licked. A surge of arousal and contentment rushed through him when his eyes fell on the reddish marks splayed here and there—on her shoulder, around her breasts—trophies of his lust he’d left behind to remind her of the passionate moments they had exchanged. His mind went on a lustful stroll again, and his cock began to throb and stiffen. He was tempted to kiss her awake and relapse into last night all over again, but hesitated, not having the heart to disturb such a peaceful slumber.

But he was saved from the guilt when she stretched and yawned, those astonishing eyes fluttering to life.

“Morning,” he cooed, when she looked up at him. “How are you?”

A gentle crease emerged on her brow, and Jaime’s heart leapt up in panic. Was it regret? Was she going to crawl into a shell of embarrassment at the recollection of the way she had thrown herself at him? Was this morning of sobriety going to wipe out all the fiery goodness of last night?

To his relief, she smiled slightly. “Fine, I guess.” 

“Good. I thought you might be hung-over.” He was on tenterhooks—unsure whether to be a gentleman or to grab her in a passionate kiss.

“It takes more than what I’d consumed last night to get me to that,” she said, not making any attempt to break free of his embrace. “Although, I didn’t expect you to be around when I woke up.”

“Well—” his cock twitched when she shifted her leg “—you are in _my_ room, wench. You barged in last night, remember?”

Blushing, she bit her lip. “I—I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry if I came across as—”

“Oh, I quite enjoyed it,” he confessed, the vision of her, dripping wet in a bathrobe, standing out in his mind. “But then,” he tentatively went on, anxious that now the fire had been doused and they were both in their senses. “I hope you don’t—”

“—regret it? Not at all.” She cuddled up to him. “Far from it, actually.”

Encouraged, he reached out to softly kiss her neck, enjoying her little shiver when his stubble rubbed gently against the redness it met. “We still have two condoms left.” He lowered his head to her breasts and began kissing and licking her tits until they got hard and pointy again. “And we still have a few more hours to go for our flight—” he tugged at her nipple “—if you want—” 

“Jaime?”

He looked up from his pleasurable engagement. “Hmm?”

“This—” she paused “—last night—what was it?”

Trick question. And all he could do was ponder for he himself was at a loss for answers. Two strangers falling into bed after just a day of acquaintance—what could it possibly mean? So many things, and if luck decided to turn away from him, nothing.

“I just want to let you know that I—” she hesitated, and he could see his own confusion mirrored in her eyes “—I’m recovering from a break-up—”

“So am I,” he confessed, his bitter fallout with Cersei coming back to hit him.

“But you said you've never been in love,” she pointed out, drawing him back to the question she had confronted him with.

“It wasn't love,” he reminisced, recalling how long it had taken him to realize that. “If it makes you feel any better, we can let this remain a fling—two people attracted to each other, having a good time together. No commitments, no strings attached.” 

Her expression shifted, and while she seemed to consider his words, Jaime didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. While one part of him wanted more—more than just this one night stand, the other warned him not to rush into things. He barely knew more than her name and a bit more about her. And as far as he was concerned, too, now wasn’t the time to step into something new. He had hardly a few more hours with her and he would make the most of it without letting the complexities of commitments and more getting in his way. 

She nodded, at last. “The sex was great.” The trace of huskiness in her voice reminded him of her demanding streak last night.

Turned on full swing by just the sexy note in her voice, he pressed his body against hers. “Just great, wench?”

She pulled him in closer. “Alright, it was mind blowing,” she admitted, colouring to an adorable crimson, her inviting eyes urging him to seduce her this time.

“Why don’t we try and surpass that?” he naughtily suggested, reaching between her legs to gently caress her mound.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned, rubbing her thighs together to squeeze his hand.

He edged his lips to her breasts, while his fingers nudged her opening, teasing and caressing her, the wetness gathering around his fingers sending a shot of lightning through his cock—balls to tip quivering with excitement. She twitched and gasped, growing hotter and wetter. He kissed her breasts, sucked them, licked them, lavishly and leisurely, this time, as his finger slipped inside and his thumb found her clit. 

“Yes, Jaime,” she acknowledged, dreamy blue eyes heated with desire, demanding more. His cock got harder, thrusting impatiently against her thigh when her hips began to grind him, easing him in, ordering him to go all the way. He fondled her clit, feeling it swell under his touch, and pushed another finger into her velvety wetness.

“Deeper,” she cried, fingers crawling down his arm, and he obliged. He kissed her everywhere— mouth, her lips, her breasts, her nipples.

She gasped, muttered something gutturally, twisting and coiling around him. He kept going, deeper as she wanted, reaching further beyond he had last night. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and so did her cunt, and one, the two became— 

Until her incoherent words became desperate curses.

And then screams of his name that Jaime was sure would be audible beyond these four walls.

Her back curving into an arch, hips thrusting upwards and stomach taut and tense, she climaxed with a violent shudder before flopping to the bed in a soft sweaty heap.

Her eyes closed, her mouth curled into a smile. “Mind blowing,” she whispered, when he bent to kiss those lips. “But I need more, Jaime.”

“So do I,” he murmured, and grabbing the condom he’d tucked away under his pillow, he sheathed himself and slid on top of her. Widening her legs to accommodate him, she reached between them and pulled his cock to her entrance.

“Yes,” she purred again, face contorted with bliss when he pushed into her. He stayed there, down to his balls, then withdrew an inch or two, then plunged into her warm depth again. She pressed her mouth to his throat, filling his skin with the joyous noises of pleasure he brought her to. He moaned, holding her tight, digging his nails into her shoulder. Her legs tightly wrapping around his waist and shoulders, spread wide open, she moved with him, and they went back and forth, gently, sensually, like he ought to have made love to her the first time last night.

But Brienne seemed to have different intentions.

“Like last night,” she whispered, pushing his ass down into her, urging him to go faster.

And he did.

He pulled out, then pushed in to the hilt, ramming his hips into her. She responded by grinding her belly against his.

She unlocked her legs and let her heels drag down his thighs, his calves, pressing and pushing into him as he stroked in and out. Every plunge, she met with a thrust of her hips, thighs against balls, breasts against his hard chest, and before long they were writhing and heaving together, limbs, tangled, bodies, slapping and rubbing, their cries reaching a crescendo. 

She bucked fiercely when she came, her muscles strangling his cock before she let go with something that was between a growl and a sob.

His pleasure was close. And she seemed to realize this as she sought his mouth and continued to move with him, eager to take him where she was. He was lost, lost in her eyes, the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest, in the bliss she brought him.

One more thrust it took him, and squeezing her breast, he kissed her hard until he could see no further than those pretty blue eyes. 

+++++

Turning on the shower, Jaime stood by, waiting for the water to reach a comfortable temperature.

And as he waited, his mind drifted away to the best sex he’d ever had. Soon after they had gotten out of bed, Brienne had returned to her room. A bath, she’d insisted on, as did he, after all that they had subjected each other to. His cock leapt up in response when he pictured her under the shower, her hands running all over that body, lathering that smooth skin and caressing those breasts, fingers twirling those tits—

“Fuck, I’ve never been this horny,” he cursed to himself, and when he turned away from the water, he caught a glance at his reflection in the mirror. He squinted his eyes to examine it more closely. His upper chest was covered in distinct red scratches, drawn down from his collarbone to his stomach, following the trail of hair that seemed to have enamoured her so much.

Upon further examination, he found similar nail marks on his back, and the ache in his groin inched up when he recalled the look on her face when she had clawed him down like that.

Marks of possessiveness, lines of passion—each, a sensual symbol of the wild lovemaking that was too good to be true, they would be etched in his memory, the way he’d acquired them and inflicted similar ones upon her, his dirty little secret. 

When the water had begun to steam up, he stepped into the shower, sighing wistfully as the hot jet hit his skin. 

_Good sex. To be enjoyed while it lasts._

That was what it was.

The scratches stung when the hot stream ran over them, reminding him of their presence again, leaving him wondering if he would be able to get over her. Lost in this intriguing and sexy stranger who had managed to blow him apart in just two days, he let the stream take over, allowing the hot water to cascade down his face and his body.

_Sex. That was all this was—_

Suddenly, he felt a breeze of air against his back, as if someone had opened the shower door. Before he had the time to react, he felt her hands slide over his back and onto his shoulders, her breasts swelling into his back as her lips grazed his earlobe.

“Why don’t we make good use of that one last condom, Jaime?”

His cock throbbing in agreement, Jaime turned around to capture her lips, surrendering to those welcoming arms one last time.

+++++

Having collected their baggage and made their way to the pick-up point outside the airport, Jaime now had no more excuse to linger around her. “How long are you here in Pentos?” he asked, trying not to get his hopes too high. A one time fling, they had decided this would be, and he didn’t want to be too clingy or pushy by imposing himself on her.

“I’m leaving on Sunday.” 

That left him with exactly a week. “I’ll call you some time.”

Her lips pursed into a tense smile, and he immediately guessed the reason behind her uncertainty and discomfort. “I’d like us to be friends, Brienne, and no more than that,” he reassured her, not wanting her to read between the lines. “But only if you want to. Only if you feel that’s possible—”

“We could keep in touch,” she thoughtfully answered. “And see how it goes.” 

Still sensing a faint reluctance in her, he decided to put the ball in her court. “Call me whenever you feel like.”

She nodded. “Bye, then.”

“Bye, Brienne.”

He stood there long after she’d zoomed away in a cab, his legs bound to the floor, refusing to cooperate.

“Who was she, Jaime?”

“Someone I met on the flight,” he dreamily answered, then whirled around, surprised to meet his nosy little brother’s cheeky little smirk. “You never said you were coming to the airport. Why bother? You could have sent a driver.”

“Since I had nothing to do, I thought I could do with a ride,” Tyrion replied, and they made their way towards the car. “A good excuse to tour the city.”

“Hmm.”

“How was your flight, by the way?” his brother inquired. “A day’s delay would’ve been painful at the very least.”

_Everything, but painful._

Jaime once again found himself treading into the realm of his memories, still dizzy, still recovering from the break-neck torrid pace of the last twenty-four hours, from everything he’d been through. Her lips, sweet and soft and succulent, the taste of her would remain on his, their voracious appetite for each other, for— 

“Jaime?”

“Yeah.” He hid his eyes, knowing his brother might try to extract it all with just one piercing look.

“You look lost.” There it was, the analytical tone, and Jaime could gauge without efforts, the probing intent behind it. “How did you spend your day in Braavos, Jaime? You must have been bored to death—”

“I wasn’t,” he countered, too hastily. “I—I had company.”

Tyrion paused to fling a glance at the cab stand. “That mystery woman you were pining after—”

“I wasn’t pining after anyone,” he barked, irked by the exaggeration in his brother’s conclusion. “I was just wondering if I’d see her again.”

“Why do you want to be friends with a complete stranger?” Tyrion went on, his interest spiked.

“I don’t, I just—”

“Did you spend _all_ of your time with her, Jaime?” Intelligent green eyes refused to leave him alone. “And now you’re aching to be with her.” He began smiling. “It’s a good sign. It’ll help you leave Cersei behind and move on.”

“I’m not interested in her,” he snapped, this unexpected ambush getting on his nerves. “She was clear last night was just a one-time thing—”

“So there was a _last night_ ,” Tyrion slyly delved deeper. “I was right—” 

“It ended this morning,” Jaime gave him the facts as they were. “While I do have Brienne’s number, I don’t think I should try to meet her—” 

“Brienne—” his brother slipped into thought ignoring everything else he’d said “—what’s her last name?”

“Tarth, but it doesn’t matter—”

“Where is she staying?”

“The Pentoshi,” Jaime answered again, “but—”

“You must pay her a visit, Jaime,” Tyrion insisted, “and from there, see where it goes.”

“No,” Jaime flatly refused. “I might indulge in a phone call or two, at the most, but no more meetings or spending time together.”

Tyrion grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has gotten longer than I’d expected it to, so I suppose I might have to add a chapter or two to what I had planned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday, and Brienne has only one more day left in Pentos.

“You slept with Jaime Lann—”

“Keep your voice down,” Brienne hissed, anxiously scanning her surroundings to check if anyone had overheard her over-enthusiastic friend.

“You fucked the most eligible bachelor in the corporate world?” Sansa leaned across and repeated in a whisper. “And you didn’t bother to tell me about it?”

“It meant nothing,” Brienne dismissed it, trying to sound casual and went back to sipping her coffee.

“Is that why you’ve been brooding about it for five days?” Sansa’s piercing grey eyes seemed to have a set goal, probing deep, digging into the remotest crevices of her mind. “You haven’t been yourself since you landed here, Brienne, and I’ve been putting it past me, assuming it’s your breakup with Renly you’ve been upset about, but—”

“I haven’t been brooding.” Quite the contrary it was, because apart from work hours which kept her brain buzzing with activity, the handsome Lannister was all she could think about. Night and day, every fucking day, his burning wet kisses, the feel of his skin on hers, his throbbing erection digging deep into her—

“There you go again,” Sansa pointed out, settling down into an indulgent smile. “You have _him_ written all over your face. The shine in your eyes, the way you’re blushing—”

“I’m not blushing,” she lied again, gritting her teeth, knowing full well that she had gone all hot and red in the face, neck and way down to her breasts. 

“It’s normal to daydream about handsome guys, at times. Tell me something—” Sansa’s eyes took on a naughty glint “—was he _good_?”

Brienne felt a little throb somewhere deep within her. 

“Better than good, I see.” Sansa nodded slowly, tossing her a wink. “Is he big? I mean—”

“I’m not answering that.” Brienne squirmed in her chair, squishing her thighs together, the memory of how he’d stretched her, of how full and satisfying his girth was, returning to get her all aroused and bothered again.

“The answer, again, my dear, is right there on your face.” Sansa had lost her smile now and Brienne straightened, bracing herself for a lecture. “What’s the problem then? It’s Friday evening. Why aren’t you out with him on your last weekend here instead of working overtime—”

“It was just a one night stand.” Brienne finished the last of her coffee and got up. “And it’s time to get back—” 

“You don’t do one night stands, Brienne.”

“I didn’t _do_ it.” She recalled how horny and frustrated she had been that night when he’d called her out on her sex life. Renly had been abysmal in bed, his pleasure the only thing he cared about, making no effort to realize that she, too, had her needs. “It just happened.” _And it was the best thing that happened to me, the best sex I’ve ever had._

“Who is to say it won’t happen again?” Sansa put down her cup and the two women began walking towards the lobby. “Jaime Lannister doesn’t do one night stands as well,” she opined, an approving tinge to her voice. “He’s had just one girlfriend, as far as I know, and—”

“How do you know this much about him?” Her interest was piqued, she wanted to know more about him, but at the same time, she wanted to keep her feelings under lock and key.

The elevator door opened and they stepped in. “He’s a public figure,” Sansa replied, pressing the button to their floor. “He’s never gotten close to a woman other than Cersei—”

“Cersei?”

“His ex.”

“He’s not yet over her,” Brienne defiantly warded off her hints. “And I’m not yet ready to fall in love again.”

“Who asked you to fall in love right away? Meet him, get to know him, enjoy the hot sex and see where it all leads to—”

The elevator pinged again and they stepped out.

“He said he’d like us to be friends.” _No more sex._

“And?” Sansa stopped, blocking her path. “What’s stopping you?”

“I—I don’t know.” Brienne felt the familiar cloud of confusion cast its shady cover over her again. “I was uncomfortable back then, and he told me to call if I felt like—”

“Call him then,” Sansa sternly advised her. “And if it doesn’t work out well, you can always back out. How will you ever get over Renly if you don’t even try?”

Sansa didn’t expect an answer to that, and Brienne didn’t give her one. They parted company, each returning to their desk, and Brienne was left mulling over what her friend had told her for long after their coffee break.

Work, fortunately, chipped in to keep her occupied and after an hour or so, she wound up for the day and headed outside to call herself a taxi. All through the ride back to her hotel, her mind was in a state of deliberation.

_To call him or not._

She almost pulled up contacts and pressed his number once, but chickening out at the last moment, she swiped it away. While it was easy for Sansa to tell her to move on, she feared another meeting with Jaime might get her closer to him than she could handle. 

Barely aware of her surroundings, she got out at her destination and made her way up to her room. A good bath, dinner ordered in the comfort of her room, followed by a couple of hours of her favourite TV show would do the trick. A distraction was all she needed, and a good night’s sleep. And this would be it.

She tossed away her bag and sank into the chair. No more dwelling on the night that once was, on something neither of them wanted—

The doorbell pinged, and grumbling to herself, Brienne got her ass off her comfortable seat and ambled over to the door. If it was housekeeping, they could come later. If it was—

“Hey!”

Green eyes shone up at hers, taking her by more than just surprise.

“Jaime? What are you—”

“You never called.” It didn't sound like a complaint. “So I thought I’d pay you a visit since you’re leaving the day after.”

She was still gaping at him, her mind numb, her limbs drifting into a state of pins and needles.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course—” she stepped aside to let him, then followed after shutting the door “—I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting visitors.” She looked down at her shirt which was in a state of disarray. “If you had called in advance—”

“I wanted to, but Tyrion—my brother—discouraged me.” He surveyed the decor of the room. “I—” He paused, then drew out his hands from behind his back, an attractively wrapped box in one and a bottle of wine in another. “Chocolates—” he handed her the box “—and wine.” I thought of getting flowers, too, but you didn’t seem the _roses_ type of woman to me.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, accepting the gifts, then led him to the pair of chairs by the coffee table. “Why don’t you sit down—”

“Why don’t you get dressed?” he blurted, as if speaking this out cost him a great deal of effort. “Let me take you out for dinner.”

“Dinner—”

“Not a date,” he hastily explained, and Brienne felt a dull stab of disappointment in her chest. “Just two friends heading out to dinner on a friday evening.”

Despite the dullness inside, she found herself looking forward to it. “That would be nice.”

+++++

“His name was Renly,” she sighed, going back to the unpleasant separation she’d been through. 

“Renly Baratheon?” The way the words rolled off his tongue reeked of disapproval. “Robert Baratheon’s brother?”

Brienne nodded, absently plowing into her ice cream. “We were together for almost a year. I almost thought he’d propose, but then—” she stared at the cherry instead of meeting the warm green eyes across the table “—he decided he favoured Margaery Tyrell instead of me.”

“A business deal, that was,” Jaime voiced with more than disapproval. “Not a marriage. And if I’ve gauged Renly well enough, I’m sure this _alliance_ isn’t going to last long, either.”

“Enough of my woes.” She popped in a spoonful of her dessert. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“What do I say except that Cersei and I didn’t work out?” He sat back, giving her one of those intense looks again, the one that sparked the remotest corners of her body to life. 

“What went wrong?”

He shook his head wryly. “I just realized I wasn’t in love with her, after all.” He took a sip of his drink. “And so did she.”

“Oh, you’ll find love,” she consoled him, “any woman would have you.”

“ _Any woman_ isn’t what I want, Brienne,” he replied, his voice deep and warm and husky. “Women have constantly tried to throw themselves at me—”

“If you’re implying what I did that night—” she felt her face burn despite the ice-cream. “I didn’t do it with the intention of—” 

He reached out to touch her hand. “I implied no such thing, Brienne.” 

“You’ll find love,” she emphatically declared, parts of her quivering at his touch.

“And so will you.” He pressed his fingers into hers. “Any man would have you.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to humour me—”

“I’m not.” The pressure on her hand increased. “Anyone would have you, Brienne.” He exhaled deeply. “Anyone.”

“I—um—” she glanced down at her unfinished dessert, her fingers needing to be free, yet aching to be in his custody “—need to—”

He pulled away. “Sorry.”

As she began eating, he dropped the subject and they finished their last course without further conversation. When they stepped out of the restaurant, Brienne gestured to a cab.

“How about an after-dinner stroll at the beach?” Jaime suggested, as the cabbie pulled over next to her.

Brienne pondered his offer, then looked at the time. “It’s nearing 9 p.m—”

“You haven’t been to the beach, have you?” he continued to tempt her. “They say it's quite beautiful after dark.” 

While a part of her wanted to spend all the time she could with him, the saner half of her warned her to watch out. “Alright,” she agreed, overriding the cautioning bit of her.

And so they set off, after sending the cab away, a long stroll along one of the beaches that could be comparable to the exquisite ones they boasted of back home in Tarth.

“Seems quite empty for a Friday night,” she observed, finding no one but them for as far as her eyes could go.

“Being a Lannister comes with some perks.” He led her to a bench. “This is a private beach, and I’ve booked the whole place for tonight.”

Confusion and excitement surged through her, as did the anticipation of the unknown. “You were so sure I’d agree to go with you?”

“Hope runs high at times, Brienne.”

They sat side by side in silence, admiring the beautiful city lights bouncing off the surface of the water, the waves hitting the shore, the only sound in miles.

“You didn’t call after that day.” He turned to her, the pale light illuminating his chiselled features. “Were you trying to avoid me?”

“I—No it’s—not like that,” she stuttered when he edged closer, his familiar scent reaching up her head and all the way across to every nerve in her body. “I—”

He leaned in, and before she could process what was happening, his mouth was on hers, the gentle press of his lips erasing every word of the evasive response she’d been framing in her head. She held out a hand to his chest, steadying herself when his tongue began to cast its spell, probing, searching, out on its conquest. She sighed, letting her palm trail down his front, lower and lower, along his tense abs, across his belt until she could feel his erection. She groped him, caressing, squeezing, and he gasped, and kissed her harder. The relentless pressure of his mouth on hers was intoxicating. She wanted more than anything at that moment for his cock to plunge into her aching depth. She wanted him to fuck her until she was sore and exhausted.

The waves had come to a standstill, as did the winds, the only thing she could hear, their needy moans. 

Fuck all her resolve, she wanted him.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, fidgeting with his shirt buttons when he broke the kiss. 

“I don’t plan to, Brienne.” He slipped off the bench and got to his knees, and before he could position himself between her legs, her nipples hardened in anticipation. 

She closed her eyes when he pushed her dress out of his way and started kissing his way up her legs, slowly, tenderly, until she could feel him exhale along her panties. A fresh gush of wetness hitting her, she leaned back in anticipation. She whimpered in delight when she felt him tug the hem of her panties and rip them off her, the cool night air mingling with his scorching breath, lifting her arousal to a level she’d never known she could reach.

“Patience,” he cooed, then began to tease her with a shower of burning kisses, up and within her thighs, going everywhere but where he wanted her to be. “These things take—”

She grabbed him by the hair and pushed him to her aching void, yearning for him to fill it. She locked her legs around his neck, telling him how badly she needed this.

He relented at last. Her heart picked up speed when she felt the scorching wetness of his tongue gently caressing the rim of her entrance. His touch was like a stream of electricity running through her, up her back to her neck, raising goosebumps as it flowed, setting off little tremors all over her when he gained speed. She squirmed and bucked, and he continued, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, fast and slow, the waves of pleasure building within her, heading towards that tumultuous release of ecstasy she’d only experienced with him. She pushed her shoulders up and thrust into him, squeezing him and trapping him, enticing him to go a step further, to take her beyond the threshold.

She cried out, her scream louder than the waves lashing into the rocks, when he slid a finger into her and let it curl up inside her, hooking in, rubbing, stroking. Only thrice they had slept together, and he was such an expert with her body, knowing exactly which buttons to push and when. Pinning her legs to the stone bench, he kept her on the edge, tormenting her with this pleasurable double assault. 

She didn’t want to come this soon, didn’t want this to end, but she couldn't help it anymore. 

Her breathing deepened, and he plunged in harder while she stumbled over the edge into orgasm. He kept going, teasing wave after wave out of her, lapping her up as her cunt trembled and burst into flames under his touch.

“Let’s go back to my room, Jaime,” she panted, dragging him back to the bench and seizing his lips. “Stay with me tonight.” She began kissing him, and he kissed her back, hard, fierce, almost insatiable with lust. 

He nodded, his eyes were burning with desire. He wanted more, too, to recreate their magical night at Braavos.

He wanted her.

+++++

The room was flooded with bright daylight when Brienne opened her eyes. She looked around at the messed up bed, her stomach squirmed, a pleasurable jolt striking it when she revisited all that he had done to her last night.

“Morning,” he called, strolling over to her side of the bed, a tray in hand. 

Was it her imagination or did Jaime sound huskier and sexier in the mornings? His tousled golden mane, the shirt hanging on to him fully unbuttoned, the scars and scratches of their furious lovemaking in full display, and the build-up within his boxers gave him a fresh out of bed—or to put it correctly— _well-fucked and looking for more_ kind of look. She smiled a contented smile knowing she was the reason for him looking all irresistible and waiting to be devoured again. 

“Good morning,” she whispered, stretching luxuriously as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss to her lips. His tongue lingered, soaking her in, before his lips sealed against hers in a full-blown surrender to desire that felt as electric as every other kiss they had shared.

“I thought I’d bring you tea in bed,” he said, when they parted. “And this—” he unwrapped a huge piece of chocolate and brought it to her mouth.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, biting into it, letting the liquid filling inside dribble down her chin. “Delicious. I love strawberry filling.”

“I find it quite tasty too.” He tugged at the sheet covering her and began to guide it down, exposing her breasts inch by inch as he went. Her sensitive nipples hardened at the touch of cool air and the familiar tingling began between her thighs as she watched him eyeing her with an intent that reignited the fire in her belly. 

“If I eat it in a particular way, that is,” he seductively added, then took away the chocolate and ran his forefinger along the sticky stream it had left behind, his silken touch caressing her skin, lighting her up like a match thrown into a haystack. He pressed, spreading the syrupy extract wherever he went, and she arched up against him, causing the sheet to slide past her navel. He dragged his palm down her throat, covering her with a deep pink and brown layer, his eyes lighting up in satisfaction at the goosebumps he produced on her skin and the acute stiffness of her hardened nipples.

Such things, she’d read of only in erotica, that someone would actually do it to her was a thought that had never crept into her mind. What it would lead to, set her heart fluttering, turning her on like hell. And she was more than willing to lie back and surrender, to let him have his way.

“Eat it the way you like then,” she invited, reaching for the streak of hair on his chest, and he sucked in his breath at her touch, tensing under her. He put away the chocolate and kissed down her chin, licking and slurping away the mess he’d left behind as his hand continued on his journey down her body, fingertips grazing her navel, then lower still. 

While his lips and tongue made a meal of her throat, leaving no inch untouched, she let her hand slip down to his crotch. She could feel him throbbing, hardening, waiting.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she drew him into a long, seductive kiss, sucking on his bottom lip until his mouth opened for her, taking in her tongue. He lay her back on the bed, his body covering hers, and settled between her thighs.

“Time to get this off.” She slipped his shirt from his broad shoulders and tossed it away. “And this—” She peeled away his underwear to uncover the aching, twitching mess that he was, as needy as her. “Jaime—”

“Patience, wench.”

He raised her arms above her head and pinned her to the bedpost, his hands pressing her wrists down. He picked up the half-eaten chocolate between his teeth, and with the creamy end on her skin, he drew a long line from her belly to her neck. “Fuck,” she cried, the moisture, the creamy texture of the filling and his touch, most of all, making her tingle along the way. He guided the sticky piece to her chin, and then to her waiting mouth.

She took a bite, her lips brushing his as they shared the sweetness between them.

Before she could reach out and devour the thing and him, he dragged the rest of it down to her breasts and circled her nipples, coating her hard buds with chocolate and strawberry. When no more of the chocolate remained, his mouth took over, lapping at the layer he’d coated her with, sucking each delicate pearly stud into his mouth. He sucked and licked, and she twitched and wriggled, her hands still tight in his grip. He prodded and tweaked and nibbled on her breasts, and she jerked and thrust herself into his mouth.

Chocolate and strawberry, breasts and tits, he licked it all, he sucked the fuck out of her, going on and on until patience failed her.

“Jaime—” 

“I can’t stand it any longer either.” 

In a quick move, he sprang away to reach out for the stash of condoms beside the tea tray. Kneeling on the bed, he worked to sheath himself, and leaning back against the pillows, he pulled her onto his lap, kissing her as soon as he could reach her lips. Passion flowed freely as they devoured each other, their hands exploring each other’s bodies. Palms pressing into backs, then dragging down, fingers trailing along spines, kisses along necklines, tongues and lips soaking in whatever remained of the sticky mess, they folded in together, melting into each other. 

Pulling her closer, he guided her onto his hardness, gliding into her with the usual ease, like she was made to house him. 

She rode him, bouncing and jerking, and hands firmly on her hips, he held her there as he thrust from below into her hot dripping cunt.

Sighs and low moans, groans and grunts filled the air as she buried her face into his neck, kissing his throat, her hips rocking him in a circular rhythm, her tight cunt sliding up and down his rod-hard cock. This was bliss, satisfaction, contentment—the sensation of him buried deep down to her belly. Every time his hips rammed into hers, she clung to him. She could feel her hair filling his fist, could feel him tugging on it, pulling her head back to kiss her, his throaty noises, ricocheting off the walls of the room.

He pushed harder, and she coiled like a bow, thrusting her chest into him, her breasts bouncing from their pounding, her moans turning into screams of pleasure she was sure that Sansa next door could definitely hear. 

“Yes,” she cried, undeterred by that realization, the need to get to the other side of this greater than anything else.

She could sense him sensing it too, for he reached down between them to press his thumb between her folds, fucking her harder while she rode him like crazy. “Oh, like that,” she mouthed again, when he twisted and prodded her, the joint assault of his cock and his ably talented digit making her wind up tightly around him. He grabbed her breasts and squeezed hard, capturing her nipples, pinching them and punishing them. He kissed and nibbled on her shoulder, and she could do nothing but sink her teeth into his skin.

_Yes. Fuck. Yes!_

Words couldn’t find her anymore as he kept going in with long strides. He was hard, he was purposeful, pushing her higher, over the top, her constriction turning into spasms as she squeezed her walls tightly. 

A desperate need to let go—

He steered her closer and her body began to shake. She pressed harder against him, his length, his balls. She held on tight. A cry made to escape her, but caught in her throat, it never saw the light of the day when pulled her down in another hard thrust, the helplessness leaving her a shaking, writhing mess holding on to him, her fingers weakly unclenching their hold on him as she dissolved into an orgasm like never before.

Grasping her ass, he yanked her down in thrust after desperate thrust, the grunts he let loose telling her he was close.

His flushed face, the sweat beading up on his brow, the way he gripped her tightly—he was almost there, on the brink of it.

She lifted her hips, pulling out slightly, and with a deep-throated growl, he slammed her back in again, and she could feel him being ripped apart, every little sensation of his explosion rushing to fill every nerve that ran beneath her skin.

They collapsed together, rolling to their sides, and Jaime pulled her into an embrace, panting against her as he caught his breath. “There goes our terrible attempt at friendship.”

Now that the euphoria was beginning to die down, reality began to set in, hitting Brienne like a punch in the gut. “I’m leaving tomorrow, Jaime. I don’t think we’ll see each other again—”

“And I don’t suppose you can get rid of me that easily.” He pressed her palm to his lips. “I’ll join you in King’s Landing in a month or so, wench.”

“What until then?” she asked, not quite sure if she could stay away from him that long.

“I’ll call you as soon as you reach,” he promised, kissing her fingers, one by one. “We’ll keep in touch.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complications creep in in the land of bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst alert for this chapter.  
> And smut alert (there's going to be smut in almost every chapter)

The one thing Jaime had not anticipated since that memorable trip to Essos was how much he’d miss Brienne. 

Four weeks—one whole fucking month had gone by in this long distance thing they’d begun after her departure to Westeros, and yet, it felt like yesterday—the first time they’d passionately made love and every other tryst after that still fresh in his mind.

“Dreaming about her again?”

He looked up to find his brother smirking, reading his mind in that uncomfortably uncanny way again. “I was trying to tally some numbers.” Thank the gods he had his laptop open—a reasonable excuse to keep his interfering brother behind a line. “Got a lot of stuff to catch up with before I leave for the King’s Landing meeting next week.” 

Tyrion settled himself on the chair next to him. “I don’t see any spreadsheets open,” he nosed around, peeking into the screen.

“I—” Caught red-handed, Jaime couldn’t find a way to wriggle out of it this time. “Yeah, it’s Brienne,” he admitted, leaning back and exhaling deeply. “I can’t have enough of her, can’t stop thinking about her—” he rubbed his tired eyes “—I feel like a fucking teenager, day-dreaming about her all the time, fantasizing—”

“You’re in love,” his brother diagnosed, tone chirpy, eyes bright. “And I’m happy for you, relieved that you’re over our wile cousin finally.”

 _Love._ While it did ring a bell this time, loudly, clearly, these were eggshells he was stepping on. He had to tread cautiously. He didn’t want to outright deny the claim, but he didn’t want to get too deep into the extremes either. “That’s a somewhat drastic conclusion,” he responded, carefully measuring his words.

“How often do you speak to her?”

“Every weekend,” Jaime replied, the disconnect in the question with his claim nudging him slightly off-track. “About 2 a.m our time when it’s around 11 p.m in Westeros.”

“You stay up every night—”

“Yeah, so?”

“Video calls?” his brother carried on with the interrogation.

“Yeah.” This reminded him that today was Friday, and it meant an almost night-long _session_ with the wench, the special _something_ he had in store for her tonight, bringing a smile to his lips.

“You’re in touch quite often, yet you keep pining for her when she’s not on camera or talking to you.” Tyrion patted his arm in a patronising way. “That’s love, bro.”

When he drove home that night, Tyrion’s emphatic conclusion was the only thought in his head. He could lie to his brother, put this off as a preposterous reading too much when there wasn’t a lot in there, but deep down, he knew he wanted more. The sex was great—remote or otherwise. The way they’d fucked, wild and aggressive at one time and sweet and sensual at another, the way they drove each other wildly horny on camera, each bringing the other gasping and to their knees— Jaime had never done this before, never felt like this for another woman.

But it wasn't just the sex.

_So maybe…_

When the driver dropped him off and zoomed away, he stood there for a few seconds, pondering, contemplating. He had a bursting urge to whip out his phone and tell her right away how he felt about her, but—

He controlled himself when he recalled their first conversation. And the subsequent chat at dinner when she’d told him about Renly. She and Jaime were a breath of fresh air for each other, and while she was certainly keen on getting the staleness out of her life to fill it with something that would bring her alive, she wasn’t at all in a hurry to rush into it.

She wasn’t looking for commitment. Not yet. What he had was too precious to lose on an impulsive whim. Time was what she probably needed, and he’d give her that. As much as she wanted.

+++++

Jaime waited for the clock to creep to 2 a.m, his mind on nothing else but what was to come. 

His body, well—it had begun to wander away long before the time neared, charting a course of its own, one _she_ controlled. And he wasn’t complaining. The yearning between his thighs had been building up, craving his lover, begging him for a release as he ached for a glimpse of her. Had his gift made it to her on time? Did she open it? Would she think it was too forward of him? He fiddled with the app on his phone. Or would they be using it tonight?

When it was time, he hit her up on the Facetime app and sat back with a glass of wine, waiting for his call to be answered.

Within a few seconds, her face popped up on his screen. Fresh, just out of the shower, she was clad in a loose t-shirt that clung to her breasts, and only that and nothing beneath, which did nothing to conceal her sexy thighs. No bra—he could make out the distinct pointiness of her nipples. Panties, probably, she had on underneath, but those would come off soon. She bent down to adjust the angle and for those fleeting few seconds he had a perfect view of her cleavage. The mental image of those tits jutting out hard and erect at the sight of his bare chest and what she was doing to his cock had his temperature rising.

“Hey there.” She sat down, her legs slightly parted, and he reached for the app on his phone, eager to be naughty tonight.

“Did you get the parcel I sent you?”

The soft purr of her breathing filled his ears. “I did get one this evening, but I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Maybe now’s the right time.” The idea of _him_ , despite his cock not being able to service her, leaving her writhing and mouthing his name in delight was getting too much for his arousal. “Go on, get it,” he urged, the tension, his urgency getting the better of him. 

She got up and he got an eyeful of her breasts, and when she went off the frame for a while, his fingers brushed the edges of his Fleshlight, warmed up and ready for use beside his laptop. His heart was hammering into his ribcage. This was way beyond ridiculous, and yet— 

When she returned, she had on a naughty expression. “So what is it you want me to do with this, Jaime?” she asked, sticking her new vibrator into the camera for him to see.

“Not you,” he slyly told her. “I will be the one operating it. As soon as you set up the app—”

“On it.” She sounded breathy and impatient. When she worked her way through her phone, he could see her fingers trembling. “Done. And I’ve granted you access for remote control.” Wasting no more time, she pulled out her tee and tossed it away and when her tits came out to play in full view of his screen, he made no effort to pull back a gasp. This wasn’t the first time they’d done a video call naked, but everytime he felt the same rush washing over him, every first glimpse of her flooding him with the same sense of tingly anticipation. “Blue is a good colour on you,” he admired, taking in the delicate lace of her panties when she stood up. “Sexy and hot, it brings out your eyes.”

“Shut up,” she teased, slipping a hand into her waistband. “You can’t wait to see me take it off.”

“If I could, I’d do it myself, wench.” Fumbling with her vibration controls with one hand, he took to his groin with the other, stroking his bulging erection through the fabric of his boxers. “Since I can’t rip the bloody thing off you, go on and be my guest,” he said hoarsely, the sight of her teasing herself with the tip of the wand sending jolts of pleasure up his abdomen, the pressure leaving his balls tightening and his cock straining to get out. 

Parting her legs wide, she began a slow sort-of semi strip-tease, making quite a show of dragging her panties out of the way. Down her thighs, it sailed, and she turned, keeping her glistening arousal out of his sight, her butt coming into his view as she let the damn undergarment inch down her knees, her calves before, at last, stepping away from it and giving him a delicious view of where his cock should be.

“I’m all yours,” she whispered enticingly, turning on her toy and letting it dance around her folds.

She moaned, a finger joining the vibrator when he started her off at the lowest setting. He kept it like that, watching those luscious lips shiver in delight as he massaged his cock, turning up his speaker volume to take in every breath that escaped her. The way she pressed the thing deeper into her, he could make out while it felt good, she needed more. She cursed and bit her lip when he advanced it to the next level, finger and wand-head competing with each other. Up, he took it further, increasing the intensity further, and he could see her fingers curl tightly around the little pen. She was shaking, her knees buckling as she rode it like a giant cock head, the sexy noises from deep within her telling him if he kept going like this—

“Not so fast,” he growled, then turned it down. Patience was a virtue, and they needed to do this together.

“More,” she mewled, and he could see her knead her clit in deep circles, aiding the toy, amping up the pressure since he refused to oblige her.

“No,” he firmly shot down her request, turning it down another notch.

Getting to his feet, he pulled down his boxers to free his hard-on, then pouring out a healthy dose of lube, he grabbed his shaft in a tight fist and began spreading it up and down his length, his other hand timing her pleasure, taking it up, then down to match his strokes. 

“Yes,” he moaned, at the same moment she did, and when he was ready he reached out for his Fleshlight and dipped his cock into the warmth that awaited him.

“Gods, Jaime, please,” he could hear her pleas pour out of the speakers, and sighing heavily, he turned her up a little more as he slid deeper into the slick interior waiting to suck him in. Soft and wet, while it was no match for her, the feeling was glorious. Little ridges rubbed into his skin, the heat waves shooting lightning bolts into his brain, his senses, through every inch of his body. Putting down his phone, he fisted, massaged and rolled his balls, then shifting slightly to adjust himself, he went further into it until he could no more.

“Fuck, this is good,” he swore. One hand controlling her vibrator speed, he pumped into the other as if he was fucking her, his hips moving to the beat of the dance she’d already begun. He could feel himself stretching and straining its fleshy walls, could feel himself swelling, growing as he glided in and out of the fake pussy, the bumps and wedges stroking and pinching and plucking at him.

“Jaime!”

Keeping up his own thrusts, he pushed up her pleasure to time the pace with his strokes, one gradual step up at a time, his greedy cock swelling for more as the rising volumes of the ecstatic sounds from the speaker filled the room. 

“Jaime,” she purred in frustration when he backed down the intensity.

“Patience,” he grunted, keeping her wand in a tight leash, stepping up to take her up the steep climb, then easing it off her whenever she was on the verge of a collapse. His own pleasure blinding him, he began pounding hard, harder until his eyes drifted closed as his head fell back. “Oh, gods, this is amazing.”

“Better than me?”

He looked into the camera and gave her a look that made her flushed face go redder than it was. “Nothing can even come close to what we have, wench.”

“I’m close—” she dipped the wand head in, then pulling it out, she inched it up and down her folds, then pressing it to her clit, she began engaging it in short tight circles “—so damn close—” 

He upped the speed a little more, pleasuring himself as he tortured her, stroking and thrusting himself closer and closer to his climax as she was tumbling down her way to hers. 

“Harder, Jaime.”

She edged closer to the camera, her hips pushing into him, breasts bouncing, tits hard and in his face, tantalizingly out of his reach, her pussy in full view along with what her needy fingers and his magic wand were doing to her. A deep thrill, he could sense, was coursing through her, and in and out, he went, thrusting and jerking, feeling her tension, feeling her tense walls crushing him instead of the silicone that hugged him tight. He bumped up her vibration further, and closing her eyes, she slumped back against a desk, panting heavily. 

He could feel her body heating up, her burning flesh against his, her soft breasts in his palms—

“Fuck, Brienne, I can’t—” His voice was strained and throaty, every word a massive effort. His balls were aching, fighting his will to prolong this. 

“I can’t, too,” she whispered, the sounds of her heavy laced entwined in his. Lust was in the air, all around, flooding the room. “I need you.” He could see her go faster, twitch and squirm as the powerful device shot her with bolts and tremors that were beginning to take her down. “I’m coming, Jaime—” 

“So am I.” Groaning and rasping, he moved faster, gripping tighter, tossing the phone aside as he moved his other hand to his balls. “Can’t—” 

“I can feel your touch on me,” she whimpered, letting her fingers wander to her chest, “your hands travelling over my body, moving along my thighs, across my stomach and up towards my breasts, pinching and prodding my nipples—”

“—your pussy clenched tight around my cock,” he resonated, picturing her where she was meant to be. He squeezed his balls hard when he saw her face contort with desire, eyes full of lust for him.

“I—need you inside me, Jaime.” 

And so did he. He was craving for her touch, his mouth around her nipples, his thrusts pounding her senseless. Her arousal, her near closeness to her peak was controlling his, and just like she was aching for it, he wanted it, wanted what they couldn’t have because of where they were. Whimpers and groans escaped him as he kept going, his muscles tightening, pulling him in as his climax began building up. 

He knew he couldn’t keep up endlessly, couldn’t—

“Now,” she cried, and with an urgent jab of his finger to the app, he tossed her up to another level. “Yes,” she hissed, gripping the edge of the desk behind her. “Yes—”

His roar of her name punctuating her cries of lust, he let himself tip over.

Unsheathing himself, he put away the toy and stumbled back on the chair. Angling himself so he was in full range of the camera, he shot into his hand with one last shove of his hips, giving in to his release. “Fuck, yes,” he cursed, letting it go on and on, letting it all out in jerks and spasms that felt like they’d been building up for ages, just as he noticed her stagger to her own orgasm. 

“Wow,” he heard her breathe out a sigh. Gently stroking his cock, he looked into the camera to meet her half-shut eyes, her body riddled with sweat. “This wand is amazing, Jaime. We should do this often.”

“Even if I happen to come there in person?” he asked, recalling that he’d not yet given her the good news.

Her brows went up in surprise. “You’re coming here?”

“Next Friday.” Just as his heartbeat was returning to normal, he could sense it drumming up to a brisk pace again at the prospect of her warm skin on his, his cock embedded deep within her instead of a substitute pussy. “I have a meeting in King’s Landing the same evening. But after that, I’m all yours till Sunday.”

“I can’t wait for it.” Her eyes took on a naughty shine as she peered down to the vibe in her hand. “And get that Fleshlight with you. We can have some fun with it.”

Jaime lay awake almost until dawn, her blue eyes, the only image in his head, her warm body, soft and unforgettable, the only thing he wanted around him. Tyrion was right. While the connect between them was electric, this went far beyond sex. Maybe it really was—

_Love._

He turned to his side, smiling. All along, he’d been dreading the word, fearing to tread anywhere close to it. But all women weren’t Cersei. And the wench—well, he had never met anyone like her.

Did she feel the same for him? He couldn’t wait to find out, couldn’t wait to ask her in person. If time was all she needed, he’d give her every minute of his life. 

And for that, he’d have to be patient for a week.

+++++

Jaime stirred groggily to the phone ringing beside him. 

Still floating in the aftermath of the wonderful sensations she’d left him with last night, he reached for the phone. Perking up when it dawned on him that today was Monday, and that he was just four days away from seeing her in person, he pressed the answer button without even checking who it was. Who else would bother to call him this early in the morning? 

“Morning, wench,” he slurred, his cock wishing she were here in person to wake him up every morning. “I dreamed of you, dreamed that we—”

“Not too bad for a man who dumped me unceremoniously.”

That voice—Jaime sat up, stunned. It felt like his head had been forced into a bucket of ice. 

“Jaime?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, collecting himself, trying to calm down. “Yes, Cersei?”

“I never knew you were this romantic,” she remarked, an edgy tinge of sarcasm to her tone. “You were never this honey sweet with me, were you?”

“How can I help you?” He frowned. From one moment to just the adjacent, how had he gone from utterly turned on to wary and apprehensive?

“Who is this _wench_ you were expecting a phone call from?” she shot back, instead of answering him. The question was sharp, demanding, as if she wouldn’t let go without a straight reply.

“Someone I met recently.” he said tersely, not interested in divulging too much. _Someone I care for too much to tell you about her._

There was a long pause at her end and some heavy breathing that choked the microphone. “Girlfriend?”

He paused, pondering. If he had to come out with an honest answer, he could go on and on. But she wasn’t the right audience for it.

“You’ve never had girlfriends other than me,” she went on, encouraged by his silence she probably mistook for hesitation. From her tone he could make out she still assumed she had a hold on him. “Women keep throwing themselves on you all the time. A one night stand, I presume—”

“I don’t do one night stands,” he barked, unable to keep it within himself. “You of all the people should know that.” 

“Right,” was all he got in response.

He had to get this done and over with before it got deeper under his skin. “Cersei—”

“I called because I wanted to get back together with you,” she breezed into his ear. “I still love you, Jaime.”

Numbed for a few seconds, he didn’t know what to say. “Cersei—”

“I can’t do without you,” she gushed, warmth and urgency flooding her voice. “I need you. I need _us_.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That Friday night Brienne did something she’d never done before. She kept glancing at herself in the mirror, taking in her dress, her hair, hoping everything was in order. 

Blue, she had picked, because she knew he enjoyed her in the colour, and matching lingerie she had worn, although she knew full well all of this was going to be ripped away from her body in the next couple of hours. She was supposed to meet him at The Crossroads for dinner where he’d reserved a honeymoon suite for them till Sunday which was when he was supposed to return to Pentos.

 _We’re not going to be leaving the room until it’s time for my flight,_ Jaime had threatened her, and Brienne bit her lip, the thought of what awaited her sending little streams of pleasure flooding all through her. Still in front of the mirror, she looked deep into the eyes that had enamoured him from the beginning, seeking in them what she _truly_ felt for him. A strong pull of attraction, blazing desire that rose sky high, a need for him to take her body, to fire her up with his touch—

But great sex apart, there was more to them, to what had rapidly grown to a significant _something_ in her heart. 

The demons of her past had held her back all along, but now— she had reached a point where her body craved his night and day and her mind—well, her mind, he had hijacked, settling down in it, determined to stay put. And she wanted this invasion to be permanent.

As for her heart—

 _Love,_ nudged a small voice inside her head, and no more wary of the effect it had on her, Brienne let herself indulge in a little smile as she made out a streak of pink creep up her neck. From what she’d seen of him in the past month or so, she could sense he’d gotten over his ex, for such affection he wouldn’t have in his eyes if he still loved another.

_So maybe… perhaps tonight—_

Her phone pinged, the alert tone telling her it was from him. Her heart skipping up to a pace it usually reserved for the excitement when he tortured her with his elaborate foreplay, she reached for her phone to read it immediately.

**“Sorry for such a short notice, Brienne. But I can’t make it.”**

This couldn’t be. It felt like Renly all over again. She re-read it again to make sure she’d been reading it right. Once her initial panic had subsided, she remembered this was an official trip. It was quite possible his meeting could be stretching late and he couldn’t spare time tonight.

 **“No problem. Looks like you’re busy tonight. We can catch up tomorrow,”** she typed with trembling fingers, hoping her surmise was right.

Ten seconds later, the phone beeped again. **“I think you got me wrong. I can’t see you again. Ever.”**

The tone felt like someone had emptied a bucket of icy cold water over her head and the finality of the message—

Clutching the phone, she paced the room, refusing to believe this was real, that he had ended up just like the ones she’d been keeping a safe distance from. Sunday was the last he had spoken to her, when they’d planned out their night together with horny enthusiasm. What could have gone wrong in just five days? How the hell did this— 

And how dare he break up with her with a text?

Her chest aching with rage and a sinking despair she’d been fortunate to be spared of for a good many months after chucking Renly out of her life, she punched his number. If he wanted nothing to do with her, he’d better have the decency to tell her directly.

“What the fuck?” she swore, when four rings later, he disconnected the call.

Again, she tried, and again, the same curt response she was treated to. After a couple of more attempts, when she gave up and was about to toss the phone on the bed, it pinged again.

**“Stop calling me, Brienne. I was wrong about Cersei. I love her. I’m sorry for leading you to think there’s something between us.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next one are gonna be somewhat angsty, but that's it with the drama.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jaime. But it's all sorted out eventually :)

His calls repeatedly failed to go through.

His messages remained undelivered—the ominous single-tick in WhatsApp tagged to every line he wrote.

_Why have you switched off your phone, Brienne?_

Jaime headed down to the reception of ‘The Crossroads’ for the third time in the last half an hour. “Any visitors or messages for me?”

The receptionist shook her head. “I’ll make sure you get to know right away if anyone turns up.” 

When the clock crossed 10. p.m, he began to undress, a hollowness setting in inside him as he looked around the room designed for a supreme lovemaking experience. Without her, the honeymoon suite was a sad joke. The day had gone well with the meeting bearing the fruit he’d expected of it, but with it ending like this, none of anything mattered much anymore.

Brienne was not the type to just withdraw and ditch him at the last minute. Feisty and forthcoming, as someone unhesitating to mince words, she’d say it to his face if she had a problem with him or wanted to cut ties with him. Quietly slinking away into the shadows after promising him to meet was not her, not—

What if her phone was lost or stolen?

What if she was in some danger?

What if—

He raked his fingers through his hair helplessly, all he could do was pace his spacious surroundings. He had no contacts of her friends, her acquaintances, no one. But he did know where she lived.

This couldn’t wait until morning—he immediately began to dress again, and within the next ten minutes, he was out of there and zipping away at the maximum speed the traffic could permit, hoping she was okay, all along. Winding through the busy streets, getting from one place to another was nothing short of a nightmare, particularly at this hour when the work-week ended and the nightlife took over, welcoming the weekend.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, glaring at the long line of cars before him. At this rate it might be tomorrow morning by the time he made it to her.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Every minute he spent at the wheel making no progress was hell. For a city the least the authorities could have done was to provide the requisite infrastructure to keep them in, to keep the capital from bursting one day.

Every signal he was stranded at, he pulled out his phone to check if his messages had reached her, and every damn time, he found himself staring at the one-sidedness of it.

When he’d made it, at last, and hit on the doorbell, he was greeted by a silence.

His loudly drumming heart the only sound on the floor wrapped in a shroud of quiet, he gave it a few seconds, waiting for a response, for some sign of movement or life on the other side of the door. The lights were out—that he could make out from the crack beneath, and that was the first sign that told him that this door would remain shut tonight.

_She’s in the shower, perhaps._

He rang the bell again and waited a little more, checking his watch every now and then.

Two minutes gone.

He surveyed the floor, walked the length of the passage, reading the name on every door but absorbing nothing, then returned to his destination.

Only five minutes had gone by. And it felt like a whole year. His patience waning, he resorted to knocking on her immediate neighbour’s door.

“She left some time back,” the woman he was inquiring with told him, her eyes all over him, gauging if she could share the details or not.

Jaime almost sighed in relief. Even if she stood him up, at least she was okay. “When is she expected to return?”

The neighbour pursed her lips, reluctant to give out more.

“I’m a friend,” he said, trying to keep out the desperation in her voice. “And I have to see her now. Did she say where she was going?”

The woman shook her head. “All she said was she wouldn’t be back for a few days. Gave me a set of keys so I could water her plants.”

She didn’t say more, but then, Jaime needed no more. Thanking the woman in a lifeless murmur, he retraced his steps out of there and back to his car, everything clear as hell now. The calls hitting an auto-response, his texts undelivered—he realized only now with a blow to his stomach that she’d blocked him. Her failure to turn up for their date, her sudden disappearance—it all had to boil down to only one thing. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

But why? What the fuck had gone wrong in twenty-four hours to warrant such drastic action from her?

He drove away, his chest feeling like a ton of lead had been piled up on it. He’d never know unless she chose to tell him.

+++++

There was an old saying that time could heal anything. A month had already gone and he was back in Essos, yet, here he was, slipping into flashbacks every now and then, that lovely evening at the beach, the numerous times they’d made love—all of it making him feel like she was still around, that nothing had gone wrong—

“Hey!”

Pushing away his dismal mental state, Jaime sat up. Tyrion was here for the weekend and he didn’t want to let his negativity ruin a well-earned break for his brother. “Morning,” he greeted him, trying to sound as cheerful as he could.

“Here—there’s something that might interest you.” Handing him the newspaper folded to the gossip section page, Tyrion settled down beside him. “Take a look at what she’s saying.”

 _She_ was the one he’d carefully stayed away from after the fateful phone call that morning when he’d declined her advances. Cersei wasn’t someone he could avoid crossing paths with at work since she still held a stake in his company, he recalled her throwing her charm around at him that day at their office in King’s Landing the day he was supposed to meet Brienne.

 _“There are rumours of you getting back with your ex-husband,”_ the interviewer had written. _“Can you confirm if there's a basis to them?”_

 _“Well, I do keep meeting him from time to time—we keep in touch—more than that, actually—” The ex Mrs. Lannister pauses, a radiant smile lighting up her beautiful face,_ the columnist had mentioned in this outrageously glowing tribute to her. _“And I can’t deny there’s still a spark between us, the love still lives—”_

“Your face tells me every word of what she's spouted out to the media is rubbish,” Tyrion thankfully intervened before he could read the bullshit in its entirety. “Tell me something, Jaime—” his sharp green eyes took a detour, went someplace to the deepest tunnels of his memory “—did you happen to engage with Cersei anytime before you made plans to meet Brienne?”

“Yeah.” Jaime went on to relate their exchange. “But then, she brushed it off as if that frictional phone call never happened,” he remembered, smelling a rat in the whole thing now that he’d gone over it again. “That Friday at the meeting, she was overly friendly, sticking to me like a leech, never leaving my side all day—”

A horrible thought coming to him, he dug out the call logs on his phone. “Could it have been that—” he scrolled, searching, scanning every entry for that day, but then, finding nothing out of the ordinary, he sat back with a sigh, his crazy theory biting the dust.

“She’s smart enough to erase her trails,” Tyrion quietly suggested, reading his mind. “Call her, ask her—”

On his feet, Jaime was on it before he could finish, and before she could respond with a _hello,_ he pounced on her. “How dare you, Cersei?”

Gentle breathing filled his ear before she spoke again. “What do you mean?”

“The interview,” he blasted her, wanting to confront her with what he had evidence for, first. “How did you even think of lying—”

“It’s no lie,” she purred. “I love you—”

“But I don’t.” He’d lost his cool. He was almost on the verge of yelling now. “I love Brienne, I love her more than—”

“She’s just a passing breeze,” Cersei stopped him in a condescending tone. “A fresh fuck, an infatuation that’ll pass by soon, and once you’re over her—”

“I’ll _never_ be over her!”

“You deserve better, Jaime,” she continued to reason with him. “You need me, you—”

“Did you have anything to do with Brienne’s sudden walkout of my life?” The more he thought of it, the more his fingers trembled, his grip on the phone loosening. “Did you—”

“Yeah, I did,” came the agitated voice from the other end. “I nicked your phone when you weren’t looking, dished out a few messages on your behalf to deliver the ultimatum to her,” she shamelessly explained. “I did it for you, Jaime. I could see no other way to break you out of her clutches—”

“Goodbye, Cersei,” he cut her bluntly. He needed to hear no further. “And you might as well tell your pet journalist that these rumours will remain only that forever.” 

Shaking even after he’d disconnected, he dropped to the couch and fell back into the cushions. 

“No wonder Brienne has blocked me,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “The gods only know how badly Cersei insulted her—”

“Here—” Tyrion handed him his phone. “You want to set things right, talk to her.”

Jaime shook his head. “I have to see her right away.” This had gone past phone calls now. “I’m going to King’s Landing. Today.”

His brother smiled. “Go get her.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


What was she thinking?

If she thought blocking him would block out thoughts of him, she’d overestimated herself.

If she thought leaving home for a week would cut him out from her heart, she’d grossly misunderstood herself.

If she thought shunning people and social media and the possibility of Hyle Hunt making a comeback into her life would ease things out, she was just finding reasons to avoid dealing with the actual problem.

If she thought time would heal her wounds, that a month away from him would help her recover, sadly, that wasn’t the way things actually worked.

If she thought all of the above could make her fall out of love with Jaime, help her pretend he didn’t exist—

Even now, even four fucking weeks after that horrible evening, Brienne was slipping into a relapse. He was all she could think of, in an idle mind and in her subconscious. Dreams refused to invite anyone else, her mind refused to open up to other men.

_Jaime._

She knew she could never have him, yet—

Her phone beeped with a text from an unknown number. **“It’s me.”**

She froze, staring at the letters on the screen.

The subsequent one was longer. **“I just came to know what happened that night. Give me a chance to explain.”**

Brienne felt her stomach churn. No, this wasn’t happening, not after all these days of silence.

She could almost hear him pleading in the next. **“Wench, please.”**

With trembling fingers, she held on to the phone, contemplating her next move, when there came another pop-up. **“Open the door.”**

She took two steps towards the door, then stalled again. The phone buzzed with another text. **“I know you’re hurt, hesitating to let me in again, but this—whatever there is between us can’t be erased by a misunderstanding. It runs deeper than that.”**

She closed her eyes and took a moment to process his words. _It runs deeper than that…_

It did. It went far deeper than anything she’d felt for anyone.

Then came another. **“Let me in, Brienne.”**

This time, she did.

When she looked into his eyes, there it was, plain and clear, that he’d been suffering as much as she had.

“It was Cersei,” he blurted out before she could ask him anything. “She—”

“I saw the article today,” she recalled, how his beautiful ex-wife’s chirpy optimism had been a slap to her face. “She mentioned that you were planning to get together, that you and her—”

“There’s absolutely nothing left between us. But you and I—” He came closer, she could hear his breathing shift tone, a shadow dimming the charm of his gorgeous face a bit. “This last one month—has there been anyone else, wench?” He sighed deeply. “In your heart, in your life—”

“How can anyone enter unless you vacate?” she said, having no restraint on her choked voice. She’d tried her best to work things out with Hyle, but every time she closed her eyes, it would always be Jaime.

His eyes lit up and, at the same time, darkened with longing. His hand was on her cheek, the other caressing her neck. “I went to your place that night,” he told her, fingertips brushing to and fro across her skin. It was as if he was trying to memorize her all over again, the feeling of their skins meeting again. And she leaned into his touch, her heart melting. “I asked your neighbour, Brienne—”

“I wish she’d told me.” Brienne went further back into her mind to recall her emotional reaction. “I wish I’d waited a while before blocking you in my rage, but I just couldn’t think of anything else—”

“I wish I’d reached out to you earlier,” Jaime said softly, his thumb tracing the edges of her lips. “I wish we’d made it that night—” he placed a gentle hand on her waist and nudged her closer “—that you didn’t have to suffer Cersei’s wrath.”

She reached out to caress his stubble. “We have tonight.”

“Yes.” She could sense him more than hear him. “And I’m going to make it up to you for that night.”

He tilted his face to hers, slowly, tentatively, and when she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, he covered her mouth with his. Lips mating with the passion of having found each other again, tongues entwined with purpose, it was sensual and erotic, affectionate and emotional. When he kissed her deeply, everything between them came alive like it had never disappeared, every word said making its presence felt as did all that was unsaid. Her breathing getting heavier, she drank him in. He was familiar, he was potent, he was the taste she couldn’t get enough of, the sensation her senses had been craving for days.

“Jaime,” she mouthed against him, heady and delightfully intoxicated as she drew him deeper into her. Countless nights she’d spent yearning for him, waking up sweating only to find her bed empty and her heart aching for him. _I love you,_ she wanted to cry out, but words wouldn’t come, her mind wouldn’t settle down. All she wanted now was him, for him to make love to her like they’d never done before.

Her agony, he seemed to read, and his hands moved upward, softly, gently, his touch flickering to the rhythm of his mouth as he drank in kiss after kiss after heated kiss from her mouth. Delicate, as his lips continued to caress hers, he feathered his way up to her breast. _Yes,_ she wanted to scream, when her hot perky nub instantly stood up to his touch. His soft moans drifted down her body, sparking something in her, igniting a fire only a long night wrapped around his body would quench.

Desires, primal and urgent, took over when he plucked at her nipple, and the need between her legs soaring sky high, she dragged his other hand to her groin.

He slipped his hand into her pajama bottoms, and keeping up the pressure on her mouth, he pushed her panties to one side. With a shudder when skin met clit, she bit his lip and sank into his arms. He knew what she needed, remembered exactly _how_ she needed it. Another fingertip edged the cleft of her pussy. He rubbed and stroked, and soaked like hell, she squirmed into him, needing more, needing him deeper.

He let go of her mouth and kissed his way to her ear. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this since the last time we—” he thrust deeper into her, and when she yelped in delight, he went back to kissing her passionately. He twisted his finger a bit, curling it slightly until he met her—

Her cunt on fire, she broke the kiss. “Take me to bed, Jaime.” She grabbed his belt buckle and began to work on it. She wanted these clothes off. She needed his skin on hers, to feel his thick length in her hands, inside her.

Their clothes came off, one bit at a time, and when they had nothing more to discard, he draped his arms around her hips and lifted her, his gorgeous erection pressed to her crotch, tasting the wetness of her arousal as he carried her to the bed. He was fully hard now, and desperate as her. 

He set her down, and pushing her on her back, he spread her legs. _Her pleasure was his command,_ he’d joked once or twice, when he’d gone down on her in the past. Pleasure was one thing, but this time, when he ducked between her legs, his hands holding her thighs in place, his lips drifting lazily up and across her inner thighs, she was knocked away.

She bucked and writhed, but the more she struggled, the stronger his grip became.

And the moment she steadied herself, his mouth was on her, tossing her back into the glorious state of instability again. “I missed you,” she sighed, when his breath burned into her pussy. “I—” she started to continue, but when he pressed a kiss to her clit, her yearning found no words but a hoarse cry.

A finger found its way into her slickness and then there was—

She threw back her head, her body jerking into him.

Pleasure, warm and intense and gushing. Torture, beautiful and excrutiating. 

His teeth on her swollen clit, pressing gently, teasing cruelly, while his finger reached out far and deep, sailing through her trembling tenderness, making her squirm, making her wetter. Her nipples had turned to pebbles, her chest was a bed of goosebumps. In went another finger, and she gasped, arching against him, as she felt him strike her just where she needed him. She hissed and squirmed. And he kept going—spreading her open, stretching her, his tongue taking her down in ruthless swirls. He flexed, then relaxed, then spread his fingers again, drawing them in and out as he lapped up her aroused clit. The sensation was wild, beyond awesome, coursing up her body from her cunt to breasts. 

Nipples peaked, her skin was soft and sensitive. Her stomach lurched, then coiled back into her as he licked and sucked her closer to a climax. Rigid for one time-stopping moment, she fell back when it had passed, her need only stronger now.

“Jaime, come up here.” 

And he did. Moving at lightning speed, he joined her on the bed in a flash. In another sudden move, he had her pressed down on the bed, chest to chest, cock to cunt.

 _Now,_ she knew, and he slipped his hard length into her, tender and cautious with his first thrust though they’d done this a handful of times. Like always, he stayed there, his lips finding hers as his fingers played with her nipples. 

He wrapped around her the blanket of his warm breath. 

He gave her his passionate kisses, the lazy strokes he began to fill her with.

He gave her the softest whispers of her name, the gentle tease of his thumb on her clit, the tenderness going from slow to fast to frantically wild as he began picking up, going in farther.

He gave her the feeling that this had been _them_ for centuries, like this will be _it_ for many more to come.

He gave her this dance of passion, his quick long strokes slowly taking her down.

Shivers down her spine, he gave her, everytime he squeezed her breast, every flick of her sensitive clit telling her he worshipped her body.

 _Harder. Deeper._ She glanced down at their fused bodies, the way he glided in and out of her, his need mating with hers. This went beyond anything they’d ever had before.

Wordless expressions of lust, he gave her with every breath he exhaled, of all he wanted to do to her with every push of his chest that crushed her breasts.

He gave her this exhilarating anticipation, this—

Such pleasure, he gave her, lighting in her a fire none had ever sparked before. 

He pushed down and she raised her hips, her lips taking his this time. His fingers playing, his mouth strumming music of its own, he thrust away, pounding, his breathing getting heavier, his strokes getting desperate.

His cock, her cunt—this went more than just frantic fucking, more than—

His hand slid up her neck, kneading his way along, clamping down on her shoulder. Pinning her in place, he rammed into her, his fingers lost in her hair. 

_Yes,_ she hissed away into his kiss, when he pushed her to a release, a feeling so perilous, so precarious until it all caved down on her, leaving her shaking and clinging on to him like there was nothing further than this.

 _This_ —he gave her, and the pleasure of bringing him crashing down to his pleasure. 

His groans, deep and needy—they were all over her, tingling down to the very ends of her nerves, curling her toes. She pulled him closer, needing to feel his need, the sensation of him hanging from the precipice.

The heady dizziness of him buckling under her orgasm as he swooped down on her to meet his own—that he gave her.

His hands sailing down her arms to meet hers, his fingers threading into hers like they always belonged there.

The sweetest of kisses he pressed to her lips, the sweat trickling down his brow to hers when he pressed his forehead to hers, the slowly steadying beat of his heart against hers and the quiet comfort of his body on hers as they held each other, spent and satisfied.

Not just that, Jaime’s eyes gave her more. They screamed out the one thing she ached to hear—that he loved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, there's just one sexy epilogue to go.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the happy ending. Enjoy!

Brienne lifted the window shade to take a look at the runway lights lined up like a giant shimmering necklace. “Why Braavos, though?”

“Because—” Jaime shifted closer to bridge whatever gap he could between them, courtesy their roomy seats “—I wanted to give you something to make the anniversary of our first meeting memorable.”

“Ah, that night,” she sighed in recollection, linking her arm in his, resting her head on his shoulder. “I spent every minute wishing you away—”

“—despite being irrevocably attracted to my charms.” 

Pouting, she tilted her face up to meet his eyes. “You were the one who chased me around, remember?”

“I minded my business once we disembarked. Apart from saving you, that is,” he said in mock defense. “If I hadn’t stepped in you’d have been deported—”

“I wouldn’t have misplaced my passport if you hadn’t wired me up in the first place,” she pointed out, albeit with a soft smile. “You were the most awful co-passenger one could wish for—”

“Unfortunately, you don’t get to choose who you travel with.” He wrapped an arm around her. “Just as you don’t get to choose who you love.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “You mean it wouldn’t have been me if you had a choice?” 

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Just kidding.” The tenderness was back in her face. “I can never forget 32-B, though.” She giggled, her hand lurking up to fiddle with his shirt buttons. “I first thought you were guessing my bra size and that infuriated me more than your nosy butting into my business.”

“Now that I do know your measurements—” he treated himself to a lavish visual feast of her chest “—I have a surprise for when we check-in to the honeymoon suite—” he let his hand trail down to cup her breast “—something you’re going to like, wench.”

“Jaime—” she squirmed, tugging his button open when he pressed a thumb to her nipple. “Not here—people will find out—”

“In case you didn’t notice, there are no people other than us, Brienne.” 

She stopped struggling. “How come?”

“Because I reserved the whole business class for us this time—”

“You can’t have—”

“Being a Lannister does come with some perks,” he breathed in her ear, “and I can’t wait for the lights to dim, for us to get down to some naughty—”

“Patience,” she cooed, then freeing herself from his grasp, she straightened to fasten her seat belt.

Waiting for them to settle down into the journey was the biggest ordeal Jaime had faced in days. The growing bulge in his jeans shouted out for respite, and unable to stand it any longer, Jaime reached beyond the barrier between them for her knee. “The cabin crew are seated far away, wench.” The plane began to glide along the runway, and so did Jaime’s hand, up her thigh until it disappeared into her skirt. “Take offs are pretty shaky,” he purred, shifting the strip of her panties away to make room for himself. “And the added vibrations, I’ve heard, can be quite favourable to—”

“Yes,” she hissed loudly, her hand crossing over to fumble with his crotch. “Yes—”

“Try to keep your voice down,” he warned, and his hand snaking up and down her slit, he leaned over, licking his lips when he looked down at hers. The notable buzz of the aircraft, the dimming lights intensifying the thick tension around them, he caught her hunger when he glanced up into her eyes. Never blinking, not breaking eye-contact, he began fingering her while she unbuckled his belt and yanked down his zipper.

“Yes,” he moaned when she fondled him, growing harder in her hand, rocking back and forth as much as his bindings would allow.

“Keep your voice down,” she mimicked his teasing as his fingers kissed her folds. “Control yourself—”

The rest of it was a helpless yelp when he pushed his thumb to her clit. In went his finger into her burning hot depth as hers curled tighter around him. 

The plane picked up speed, and so did their movements—harder, faster, deeper, the vibrations around them, the upward thrusts of their seats taking the sensations to an all new level. 

She gripped his cock harder, she began stroking him, ruthlessly, mercilessly, taking him all the way along, taking him to a point from which there was only one way out. She sighed heavily when he returned the favour, starting to spasm around him when he pumped harder. With a soft thump when the plane left the ground, he could feel her ascend, too. As the craft gained altitude, he could sense her completely lose it. Their transport soon steadied, smoothing away into a peaceful pace, but she had hit a turbulence only he could bring her out of, only he could appease with well-paced thrusts and just the right pressure to cause her to plummet—

“Jaime,” she whimpered, softening around his fingers, letting go, relaxing. 

While he wasn’t yet there, it wouldn’t take her long to crack him. Breaking their intense battle of gazes, he leaned in to kiss her. She continued to caress him, a fingertip up, a trail of a fingernail down, feathering his tip, edging him, refusing to let him come. His frustration at its peak, he deepened the kiss, fucking her mouth with his tongue. Her whimpers traveled down his front; he knew it was one of those searing kisses that would get her all wet and horny again, her pussy throbbing, dripping for him.

And if he didn’t give her what she wanted, he’d burst with agony, too.

“I want to make love to you, wench,” he gasped, when they pulled apart, breathless. “I—”

“Well—” she glanced up with a naughty lick to her lips “—now that the seat belt sign’s off and the cabin crew won’t be showing up anytime soon—” 

Within no time, her belt was off. On her feet, she slipped out into the generous gap between their row and the previous, and raising her skirt above the knees and high up her thighs, she settled down on his lap. Adjusting the lever to stretch his seat out, he slid towards the edge, perching so he could make room for her. One leg draped on either side of his, she was straddling him, her panties pushed to a side, her bare cunt covering him in her arousal.

“Come here,” he growled, and flicking the light switch above them to bathe them in no more than the distant reaches of the adjacent lamp, he made for her lips, taking her apart with another fierce kiss. A huge rush of passion, he could feel down her body, when their mouths became one, when they hungrily drank from each other's lips. Her heavy breathing went down on him as they heated up, as her fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt while she rubbed her pussy along his length. Her fingers were all around his chest, teasing the wiry mess of hair she loved to play with so much, drawing gentle lines down his front all the way down to his balls.

Fuck, he wanted to feel her too! He ached to grope and caress her, to devour those gorgeous breasts—

Still locked in her kiss, he unbuttoned her blouse, and pushing it down her shoulders he deftly undid her bra and got it out of his way. With a deep moan, he shifted down from the kiss to suck on those erect pebbles he’d uncovered. She had highly sensitive nipples, and mere seconds of his lips and few swivels of his tongue were enough to get her all aroused and needy for him.

“Jaime—” Her fingers in his hair, she shoved his face to her chest, her breast deeper into his mouth. “Jaime, I—” She began swaying back and forth, her touch-hungry nipple all his to feast on one moment, then out, the next instant, denying him the pleasure for a fleeting few seconds before going all the way in again. The plane jerked, only a bit, but that, coupled with what she was doing to his cock, was just too much.

“I want you, wench—”

Pulling back, she lifted herself, and before he could brace himself, she sank into his throbbing erection, swallowing him inch by inch as she lowered herself back onto his lap. She stayed there, and Jaime held her, closing his eyes for a heavenly few seconds to take it all in. This first moment had always been exquisite, from the first time they made love, and every time since. It has brought him this incredible sense of belonging, of being where he was meant to be.

It flooded him with the awesomeness that was her, the feeling that she was the one, his path, his destination, his destiny.

He kissed her again, then withdrew, craving to bear witness to the lust and affection in her eyes. She gazed back at him steadily, bent closer, the light brush of her breath teasing his lips. His hands were up and all over, across her rib cage until he was touching her breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing back and forth across the rigid beads those perfect nipples were. She leaned to lock lips with him again when he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. And he couldn’t get enough of her, either. He always wanted more—more of her thirst, the wet heat of her tongue twined in his. 

Groaning, he dragged her forward to kiss her deeper, as she began to ride his length with the rocking rhythm of her hips. 

The occasional tug, the off and on back and forth of the plane added its erotic contribution, even the slightest twitch, the minutest hum around them elevating them to a new level of sensations. He clutched her thighs, spreading them further apart, pulling her open as he met the rock of her hips with his desperate upward thrusts. Grunts and hungry whispers of their names merged with the ambient noise. That they were doing this in public only added to their frenzy, the dizziness that was fast approaching. She bounced up and down. She pounced on his lips with a hunger that brought their surroundings to a hazy blur. 

On, they went, the sounds taking an indecent edge—hers, the plane’s, that of the AC above them. The unrelenting rise and fall of her hips made his head swim, made her roll and jerk against him. 

Breasts crushing into his chest, lips taking his on in fleeting, yet intense kisses, the way she tightened around him—he knew she was starting to come. She plunged down and he pushed up, their bodies moving in this perfect coordination as they held tight, down to the edge of their seats. 

He ran his hands around her hips to grab her ass. Her fingers balled into fists, closing in on his shirt, she continued to him like crazy. And he drove into her with all he could give her. 

Faster, oh, yes, it has never been like this before!

He could feel her tense and curl up into a ball from within, could feel her shivers down his thighs when she took the dive.

With a soft, “Jaime,” that was music to his ears, she sank into him. With a deeply contented press of her mouth to his neck, she let him take the lead, satisfied with playing along to the last of his thrusts.

He slowed down, then stepped up again. He was right down there, she was pulling him in, drawing him into this chasm of pleasure she’d leapt into. He drew it longer, holding back, holding on, and when he was blinded by this need to finish, he bounced upwards with a force that rocked her entire body and blasted away into white hot molten heat inside her.

She lay still on him and he stayed inside her for quite a while after it was over. It was a long time before either could speak, but the softness of her lips on his told him it was time for the next move.

“I’m done with seeing you only on holidays and weekends, Brienne,” he came out with the first bit of his big reveal. “Tyrion will manage the business in Pentos. I’m moving back to King’s Landing. So it won’t be rushing in and out with just two precious days together anymore.”

Her fingers gently ruffling his hair, she smiled against his lips. “That would be nice.”

“Yeah,” he dreamily agreed, sucking in a drop of sweat from the corner of her lips. “We could live together. Imagine endless nights of kissing and cuddling and sex and fun.”

Her pulse drumming into his, her breasts rose and fell against his chest. “You know, life isn’t just that.” 

“True,” he agreed, his own heart hammering up to meet the ceiling as he tentatively took the next step forward. “What if we get married?”

“And?” Brienne asked teasingly, blue eyes reaching deep into his as she looked up.

“Kids, of course,” he went deeper into his fantasy. “About seven, I’d say—”

“Seven’s too many!” she exclaimed, the smile playing her lips not matching the fake frown she was trying to put on. “Two is the most I can manage—” 

“So you do agree to marry me,” he inferred, relieved he hadn’t made a mess of this. “We could—”

“Hang on—” the smile vanished and the frown deepened “—was that an _actual_ proposal?” Her lips quivered gently. “I thought you were just messing with me, playing around—” 

“I wasn’t—I—” He searched around for words, to figure out how he could make this more romantic. “I know I’m rubbish at it, but this is serious, Brienne. I want, more than anything else, to marry you, to raise a bunch of kids with you, to grow old with you—” 

“Yes.”

Jaime forgot the rest of the speech he’d just thought up. “Did you just say—”

“Yes,” she whispered, then swooped down to kiss him properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, another fic that was caught in my difficult times, the gaps between some chapters dragging on for ages. But it's done now, and as the saying goes, all's well that ends well.  
> This is, by far, the smuttiest multi-chapter I've written and I hope it has come out alright. Would like to know what you think.
> 
> And finally, as always, thank you so much for all your support :)


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